


Second Chances

by Brynneth



Series: One Heartbeat Away [5]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-02-25 09:06:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2616188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brynneth/pseuds/Brynneth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine months after Justin returns to Pittsburgh, sixteen-year-old Gus comes for a summer visit.  What effect will he have on Brian and Justin's relationship?  Sequel to One Heartbeat Away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Nonconventional Marriage

**Author's Note:**

> This is a multichapter sequel to One Heartbeat Away, but it can be read alone also. Many thanks to my beta, Zevgirl!

Brian rubbed his forehead tiredly in a futile attempt to assuage the dull pain behind his eyes. This past week had been frustrating due to a lost account, a major one. He thought the new campaign he had devised was brilliant, but the CEO of Highlight Cosmetics disagreed. A conservative woman, she had immediately vetoed Brian's ideas to give the advertising a sexual makeover and furthermore accused him of setting back women's rights by emphasizing sex.

 

"Women will never move forward if they are continually placed in the role of sex object. Cosmetics is about giving the woman confidence to fulfill her ambitions, not turning them into whores."

 

"Do you think women value sex any less than men?" Brian handed her a sheaf of papers. "Surveys show that women are becoming more aggressive about sex than ever before. Why try to hide it?"

 

He failed to persuade her and received a message the next day saying that Highlight had selected a different advertising company. The resulting irritation was enough that even Cynthia and Ted avoided him, knowing Brian's moods well enough to stay out of sight. On a better note, he had received word this morning that a bistro chain had signed a contract with Kinnetik. Unfortunately, the news arrived too late to abort his impending migraine.

 

Digging in his desk, he retrieved his prescription medication and downed two of the pills. It usually took about thirty minutes for the medicine to kick in, so he retired to the sofa in his office to lay down and close his eyes. Maybe he would leave early today, grab some Thai takeout on the way home, and surprise Justin with dinner and dessert. In bed, of course.

 

He was undressing his lover in his mind when his cell phone chirped in his pants pocket. The noise sparked a stab of pain in his head, and he hurried to dig it out and make it shut up.

 

"Kinney."

 

"Hi, Brian. Is this a bad time?"

 

Lindsay's voice instantly relaxed him. He still missed her. He managed to visit Toronto at least every few months, but it was not the same as having her in Pittsburgh. Given how well she and Mel were doing, however, he doubted she would ever move back.

 

"A migraine is always a bad time. What's up?"

 

"Oh, sorry. Would you like me to call back?" Always the polite, well-mannered lady.

 

"Fuck, no. Later, I hope to be in bed, naked and sweaty. You calling about Gus's visit?"

 

"Spare me the details, and yes, it's about his visit." There was a small pause, her voice breaking a little. "Actually, it's about more about _him_."

 

"Something wrong?" She wasn't going to keep him home, was she? Gus always came to visit for at least four weeks in summer. Brian had been looking forward to it for months. Justin was too, excited to be reunited with the boy he had once babysat and taught how to draw.

 

"Gus has been . . . having some problems since you saw him last. Well, actually, he's been having them this entire school year, but I didn't want to worry you. Since he's coming to visit, however, I figured I'd better warn you."

 

"What kind of problems, and why have you been keeping me in the dark, Linz?" Brian glared up at the ceiling. "Just because you moved to Canada, it doesn't make me any less his father."

 

"I know that, Brian." Her words were sharp, annoyed. "But you know how you get about stuff sometimes. We didn't want you to make things worse."

 

"Yeah, because that's _exactly_ what I do. What the fuck is going on?"

 

"He's got a new group of friends this year, kids Mel and I haven't met. We think they're having a bad influence on him. He's become withdrawn, sulky, and rude. Spends nights out with his friends and comes home late. We've tried punishing him, but he keeps doing it."

 

"Are his grades suffering?"

 

"No, but you know how smart he is. He barely even has to study to ace his tests."

 

Brian smiled. Obviously, Gus had inherited Brian's intelligence. "So. What's the big deal? He's a teenager. We all go through the sullen phase where we believe we're better than anyone else, and parents are a drag."

 

"The problem is we found a roll of twenty dollar bills stashed away in a shoebox in his closet. Along with a sizable amount of coke."

 

 

"Is he dealing?"

 

"We don't know, but we think so. When we confronted him, he just said he was experimenting with it, that's all. He claimed the money came from helping his friends with their schoolwork. Said he's tutoring them, but Mel thinks he's lying."

 

"Well, she's a lawyer, so she would know, wouldn't she?" Brian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "So what are you doing about it?"

 

"His school counselor suggested counseling, but he went into a rage when we mentioned it. He's so closed down around strangers, I doubt it would help. We're hoping that if we can get him away from his friends for a while, he might come to his senses. That's where you come in."

 

"Oh?"

 

"We want you to keep him for the whole summer, Brian. Help him find a job and keep him busy. Maybe some time with you and Justin would be more helpful than counseling."

 

Brian thought about it. His schedule was open this summer; he and Justin had made no plans to go anywhere. They had completed their move to the new house in Shadyside and fixed up a room for Gus. Both were looking forward to Gus's visit, so what was another two months? Of course, if Gus was being a difficult teenager, it might end up a grueling summer, but Brian still wanted to see him. Maybe he could accomplish what the lesbians could not.

 

"Okay." He sighed at the relieved thank-you gushing over the phone. "But if this doesn't work, you need to promise me you'll do whatever it takes to set him straight. Even fucking therapy."

 

"Deal."

 

###

 

By the time Brian arrived home, the headache was gone. Dropping his briefcase by the door, he headed to the kitchen to grab a bottled water.   Taped to the refrigerator door were two letters, both from the same physician's office. Brian glanced at both while gulping half the bottle in one swig. The irritation that had followed him the entire day immediately vanished, replaced by an eagerness that many years ago, he would have described as pathetic. Setting the bottle back in the fridge, he went in search of Justin.

 

He found his lover in a spacious corner room overlooking the backyard. Several easels rested along the walls, interspaced between various shelves and tables. Justin currently occupied a large desk in front of the largest window, dressed only in loose gray yoga pants and wearing glasses. Brian leaned against the door jamb, admiring the flawless skin of Justin's back and the way his hair curled waywardly at the base of his neck.

 

When he finally stepped forward, the floor squeaked and Justin glanced over his shoulder.

 

"Hey."

 

Brian bent over, responding with a kiss that quickly deepened, unwilling to stop until he heard an appreciative moan. Pulling back, he took a look at what Justin was working on.

 

"Going with the new story line?"

 

Justin was the creator of _Maddie_ , a comic strip centering on a gay couple who had adopted a girl named Maddie. Justin had been toying with the idea of adding a brother to the family.

 

"Yeah. Having a boy around will give me some new plots." Twisting his neck, Justin ran his tongue over the pulse at Brian's neck. "Do we have to talk about it right now though?"

 

Brian smiled. "Have something else in mind, do we?"

 

"Did you see the letters from Dr. Houghman?"

 

"Yep. Looks like we're still clean." Brian nuzzled Justin's hair with his lips. "Are we ready to celebrate?" He slid his hands down to Justin's ass. The thin, clingy pants hid nothing, which was exactly what Brian liked.

 

"I think we should talk first."

 

"I thought we already did."

 

A few months earlier, Brian had admitted that he had fucked no one except Justin since his return to Pittsburgh and Brian's life. To further add to Justin's shock, he had also stated he didn't care if they decided to be monogamous. They had both had blood drawn, and the letters clearly specified they were HIV negative.

 

"I want to talk again." Taking Brian's hand, Justin led him toward the living room, pulling him down to sit on the black leather sofa.

 

"If you prefer to keep our relationship open, I understand." At Justin's age, Brian would never have agreed to be monogamous. It was hardly fair to ask it of Justin now.

 

Justin punched his shoulder, frowning. "You know I don't!" Sighing, he removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I just want to be sure this is what you want. I was well aware of what I was getting into when I came back, Brian. I don't want or expect you to make any changes for me."

 

"I'm not making any changes for you," said Brian. Irritated, he ran his fingers through his hair, unknowingly setting it on end. "I already told you how I feel. I haven't been fucking around because _I don't want to_. Why settle for less when I already have more?"

 

Justin just looked at him, biting his lower lip. Anger welled up, burning like acid in Brian's stomach.

 

"You don't believe me."

 

"It's not that I don't believe you . . . ."

 

"Yes it is. You don't."

 

Brian stood, far too fast, and by the time he hit the front door, his headache was back, pounding relentlessly. He heard Justin calling after him, but he ignored it, cocooning himself in his BMW and escaping from self-doubt with a wounded squeal of tires.

 

###

 

He was well and truly inebriated hours later when he heard the knock on his office door. Lying on the chaise longue imported from Rome, he cradled a glass of scotch on his stomach while leaning his head back to watch Ted enter.

 

"Why, Theodore, did I call a meeting?"

 

Ted spared him a glare before sitting at Brian's desk and slowly swinging his feet up to rest on the desk.

 

"At ten at night? Even _you_ don't enjoy torture that much."

 

"Ah. Justin called you."

 

"Justin called me."

 

"Well, you can take your feet off my desk, go home, and tell him I'm perfectly fine."

 

"Which is a lie, and he'll know it."

 

"Get your scummy shoes off my immaculate desk and hit the road, Theodore."

 

Ted did not even flinch, and Brian wished for the days when Ted would jump at the slightest grunt. Some things did not improve over time.

 

"What do you want?

 

"Just tell me Justin isn't leaving because if he is, I'm quitting here and now."

 

"What difference does it make? He's not your boss."

 

"No, but my boss is a sickly pile of vomit when he's not around. I don't think I can live through it again."

 

"We did just fine without Justin around."

 

"Are you kidding? It was like working with a robot using your skin as camouflage. Justin is good for you."

 

"Maybe I'm not good for him."

 

"What's going on, Brian?"

 

"Do you and Emmett fuck bareback?"

 

Well, times really _had_ changed. Ted did not even blush.

 

"We didn't at first, but we do now. Then again, we're completely monogamous." Ted dropped his feet to floor, leaning forward with sudden interest. "Wait, what are you telling me here? Are you and Justin . . . ?"

 

"No, but I want to, and so does he."

 

"Even though that means . . . ."

 

"Fucking no one else? See Theodore? I can say it." Brian lifted his glass in salute and drained the contents. "Is it so hard to believe?"

 

"Of you? Mr. Anti-Marriage?"

 

"I'm still against marriage, and I still believe monogamy isn't for everyone. I think I've reached the point, however, where I see the benefits."

 

"Which are?"

 

"Fucking Justin raw."

 

Ted rubbed his forehead tiredly. "It is a benefit, but it's not why most people choose monogamy."

 

"I have no desire to fuck anyone else. What more reason do I need?"

 

"You've always enjoyed fucking any guy you chose. What changed?"

 

"Justin came home." Brian sat up in one smooth motion. "And no one has a better ass or can give a better blowjob than Justin."

 

Ted gave him a long look. "I have a feeling it involves much more than that."

 

"It does, but don't tell him."

 

Ted stood and walked around the desk to stand in front of Brian. Bending down, he squeezed Brian's shoulders.

 

"Go home and tell him what you just said, Brian. Justin is better company than scotch. Or me."

 

Brian could not argue with that.

 

###

Ted drove him home, since this was the very reason Justin had sent him after Brian. By then, Brian's level of stupor had lessened somewhat, but he still stumbled up the stairs, bumping his shoulder into the corner of a frame and barely saving it from a shattered death.

 

Justin was already in bed, lying with his back facing Brian's side. Kicking off his shoes and leaving his clothes in disarray on the floor, Brian slid in next to him. Edging as close as he could without actually touching Justin, he nestled his head next to blond hair and simply breathed in his lover's scent. Justin did not move, but Brian knew immediately he was awake. Each breath held a thousand words, almost vibrating in the air between.

 

Neither of them would apologize because sorries were bullshit, and regrets already littered their past. What Brian needed was a bridge.

 

"Lindsay called today."

 

"Something wrong with Gus?"

 

"She wants us to take him for the entire summer."

 

"You okay with that?"

 

"Of course. We may be in for some headaches however. Lindsay and Mel think he's dealing drugs."

 

That got a reaction. Justin turned around, his face shrouded in darkness.

 

"Seriously? What are they going to do?"

 

"Send him to me in the hopes we'll set him straight." Brian reached out to brush Justin's floppy bangs out of his eyes. "They think time away from his erstwhile friends might do the trick. What do you think of me hiring him for the summer?"

 

"That depends. If you're as hard on him as you are on everyone else, you might send him screaming back to Canada."

 

"If it straightens him out, sounds good to me. Perhaps a job will get his mind back on track."

 

Justin scooted closer, molding himself against Brian's body and slinging an arm over his waist. "We'll figure it out."

 

The warmth of Justin's body heated Brian's skin, sending a familiar buzz throughout his body. He slid a hand down Justin's back, cupping his ass and pulling him closer. The air thickened, snapping with intensity.

 

"I need you inside me, Brian, in whatever way you want it."

 

"There's only one way I want it." Brian slid his rapidly hardening erection against the silkiness of Justin's. "And I'm not afraid of the consequences."

 

"Fuck the consequences."

 

Words became lost and then no longer mattered as skin caressed skin, no barriers between them. Even as Brian entered Justin, losing control for one of the few times in his life, he knew their relationship had changed irrevocably. He would never again be able to settle for anything less than this, and most surprising of all, the thought did not scare him in the least.

 

###

 

Much later, they lay curled together, Brian's cock still nestled in the crack of Justin's ass, sticky with cum, but Brian was unwilling to move.

 

"That was . . . ." Brian's voice trailed off, chasing the impossibility of words to describe the best sex of his life.

 

"Yeah." He couldn't see Justin's face, but he could hear the cheek-to-cheek smile. "It really was." Justin stretched languorously. "You know what this means, right?"

 

"I do understand how monogamy works, Justin."

 

"No, that's not what I meant." Justin turned around, and Brian groaned at the loss of warm ass surrounding his cock. "Do you realize that for us, this is as close to marriage as we get?"

 

The thought had crossed Brian's mind hours ago in his office. For heterosexuals, marriage equaled monogamy, but he and Justin had rejected marriage years ago.

 

"Well, I guess you could consider tonight our wedding ceremony, then." The thought was oddly exhilarating. What better way to bind yourself to each other than sex? As far as Brian was concerned, it was infinitely better than a piece of paper.

 

"What about our honeymoon then?" Justin was nuzzling his neck, licking his way up Brian's Adam's apple.

 

"Let's have it right now." Leaning behind him, Brian grabbed the lube resting on the bedside table. "It's your turn to make your vow, Sunshine."

 

"I do," whispered Justin, pouring the lube over his fingers and then reaching around to prepare Brian.

 

There was something to be said for tradition, and even if they were exchanging sperm instead of rings, Brian felt this was one ceremony worth celebrating.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Gus

"Damn it, Brian!"

 

Having already rung the Kinney estate's doorbell and then knocked with no response, Michael dug in his shorts’ pocket for his copy of the key. Where in the world was Brian? Michael had offered to pick up Brian and Justin in his SUV so they could all go to the airport to pick up Gus and JR for their summer visit to Pittsburgh. Granted, he was an hour early, but he figured they could shop for a present before the plane landed. Unfortunately, Brian did not appear to be home.

 

Letting himself inside, he closed the door and looked around the spacious foyer.

 

"Brian!"

 

Hearing no reply, Michael sighed and headed toward the back of the house to see if the missing owners were outside. The house was impeccably clean; the housekeeper must have been out this morning. Michael took a moment to admire the decor, all modern minimalist with black and white upholstery, dark wood, and clean lines. He recognized several of Justin's paintings, the bright colors complementing the more reserved tones.

 

The French doors leading to the outside deck were open, and Michael heard low voices without. Opening his mouth to shout a greeting, he froze at the doorway, sucking his breath in sharply at the sight.

 

In the center of the deck was a full-length pool, surrounded by lounge chairs and small iron-wrought tables. The ripples scattered shards of sunlight across the deck and back walls of the house. A large burgundy beach towel lay spread by the pool, occupied by a naked Justin on all fours. Brian knelt behind him, swimming trunks shoved to his knees, head thrown back, eyes closed, and cock buried deep in Justin's ass.

 

It was not the first time Michael had witnessed them fucking. Hell, not even the tenth. Back in the old days, he had walked into the loft often to catch them in every position imaginable, not to mention the back room at Babylon. Normally, he would have simply groaned, made an exasperated comment, and then retreated to a more secluded location while they finished. This time, however, something was very off.

 

He saw not a single condom in sight, especially not where it belonged.

 

Too shocked to speak, he withdrew into the shadows of the house, plopping onto a sofa while his brain struggled to digest what he had seen. Never, _never,_ had he seen Brian without a condom, no matter who he fucked. It was his one, never-breached rule when it came to sex, and probably his only salvation considering how much he had tricked over the years. Yet, he definitely had been fucking Justin bareback just now.

 

_Well, now I've seen it all_.

 

He grabbed the remote and turned on the huge flat screen TV hanging on the wall, cranking up the volume. The Learning Channel popped up, displaying a hunk in dirty jeans and t-shirt demonstrating the proper way to lay bricks for a garden path. Michael crossed his arms and glared at the television for a full ten minutes before he heard the creak of the screen door.

 

"Mikey!"

 

A deeply tanned arm smelling of sunscreen wrapped around his chest as Brian leaned over the back of the couch and planted a careless kiss on his best friend's cheek.

 

"Why didn't you say you were here?"

 

"I rang the doorbell and knocked, but no one answered. Do you always ignore people at your front door?"

 

"Sorry, Michael," said Justin, approaching with a towel wrapped around his waist. "We were by the pool."

 

"Yeah, I _know_."

 

Justin had the grace to blush, but Brian headed to kitchen with a smirk. "Just like old times, eh Mikey?" He returned, carrying three bottles of Evian, handing one to Justin and one to Michael.

 

"Uh, I'm going to go shower before we leave." Justin made a quick exit, pecking Brian on the lips as he passed.

 

Brian flung himself on the sofa next to Michael and propped his bare feet on the coffee table. "Can't wait to see Gus. You got JR's room ready?"

 

"Yeah." Michael smiled as he remembered the reason he was here. "We even repainted her room lavender since that's her favorite color now."

 

"How gay." Brian gestured to cabinet beneath the TV. "I got Gus the latest PlayStation. Linz says he’s totally addicted to it."

 

"You got plans for his visit?"

 

"Going to give him a summer job at Kinnetik."

 

"Wow, really?" Michael took a quick gulp of water while assimilating this piece of information. "Doing what?"

 

"Odd jobs around the office. There's always plenty of stuff needing done. Cynthia will run him ragged."

 

"Bet he'll enjoy that." Michael did not like Cynthia, often referring to her as the dragon lady. "You sure about this?"

 

"Got to keep him busy. He's sixteen . . . it's time to get his first job."

 

Michael smiled, his eyes staring off into nothing. "Remember our first job?"

 

"Ralph's Car Wash. How could I forget?" Brian raised his Evian in a salute to the past. "Washing all those cars with my shirt off. I got lots of blowjobs that summer."

 

"You were damn lucky Ralph never caught you."

 

" _He_ was the lucky one. Do you know how many loyal customers I got for Ralph? They came for me, of course, but they paid _him_."

 

Michael sighed, shaking his head. "Go get your shower. We have to leave in forty minutes, and you smell like sex." He grimaced as Brian stood and headed for the stairs. "And don't fuck Justin again! We don't have time!"

 

###

 

Even though Michael was fairly certain Brian _had_ fucked Justin in the shower, they still made it to the airport early. Wandering through the shops, Michael bought JR a fluffy teddy bear, while Brian selected a PlayStation game at GameStop for Gus.

 

"Don't you think JR is getting a bit old for teddy bears?" Brian tugged at the pink ribbon around the bear's neck, while Justin hid a smile.

 

"She's only thirteen!" protested Michael. "She has a collection of bears, remember?"

 

"I'm betting she's more into boys than bears, Michael," said Justin.

 

Michael's face transformed into a mask of horror. "Oh my God, you think she's into boys already?"

 

"Or girls." Brian led them to the mass of chairs at the gate. "Poor thing's been raised by lesbos. That alone would be enough to make her gay."

 

"Shit, I don't want to even think of her dating." Michael plopped into a chair by the huge windows and buried his face in the bear. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

 

"Oh relax, Michael. She'll be fine and so will you."

 

"I gotta go to the restroom. Be right back." Justin whispered something in Brian's ear before heading across the aisle, leaving a grinning Brian to sit beside Michael.

 

"What did he say?"

 

"That my cum is still oozing out of his ass." Michael rolled his eyes. "What can I say? I've got loads to spare."

 

"Yeah, about that . . . ."

 

"Sorry, but you have your own partner, the professor, remember?"

 

"That's not what I meant!" Michael leaned forward, lowering his voice. "I, uh, noticed you weren't wearing a condom. What the fuck, Brian?

 

"So?" Brian frowned, suddenly serious. "Mikey, I know you and Ben can't fuck raw, and I'm sorry about that, but . . . ."

 

"That's not what I'm talking about! It's just that you've always been so careful. Aren't you worried about the two of you exposing each other?"

 

"No need to worry. Our tests came back clean, and we're not fucking anyone else."

 

Michael could not have felt more amazed if Brian had declared his intention to become a juggler in the circus. "You're monogamous?"

 

"Yep."

 

"You're kidding."

 

"Why does everyone have such a hard time with me being monogamous?"

 

"Because you . . . you . . . detest marriage!"

 

"Well, we're married now, so isn't monogamy part of the deal?"

 

"You're what?!"

 

"Michael, would you pipe down? People are going to worry you're about to have a heart attack."

 

"What do you mean you're married? I haven't been to any wedding!"

 

"We didn't have a wedding. Instead, we had our own private ceremony. Who needs a priest and a piece of paper?"

 

Michael was still sputtering when Justin returned, pausing when he saw Michael's face.

 

"Michael, you okay?"

 

"He's fine. I just told him we're married and monogamous now."

 

"Ah." Justin sat in the seat next to Brian. "I see."

 

"Justin, is this true?"

 

"Yep." Justin leaned over to kiss Brian on the cheek. "The stud is officially mine."

 

"Brian said you didn't get a license."

 

"We both know where we stand," said Justin, his eyes never leaving Brian's. "No license needed."

 

"None at all," said Brian, smiling.

 

Michael watched, still stunned, while Brian palmed the back of Justin's head and drew him into a deep kiss that garnered more than a few looks and smiles. One tiny, gnarled, old woman actually clapped, beaming at the couple. Michael shook his head, struggling to wrap his head around the idea of Brian being monogamous.

 

_May wonders never cease._

 

###

 

Gus unbuckled his seatbelt and sat waiting while people filed past, making their way off the plane. His sister sat next to him, forehead against the window, watching the luggage being removed from the plane. Peering outside, he took in the airport, waves of heat shimmering across the runways.

 

_Fucking Pittsburgh_.

 

In truth, he had not used to hate Pittsburgh. There was a time not so long ago when he looked forward to visiting his father in the summer, counting down the days on the calendar in his moms' kitchen. Unlike his moms, his dad loved video games and always had the latest consoles available with a wealth of games to choose from. They would go swimming at a private club every weekend, visit arcades, and shop the malls for clothes his moms complained were too expensive. His father was cool and easygoing, unlike the moms who harped on him constantly.

 

This year, he had asked to stay home. Mom had been aghast, and Ma had scrutinized him as if he were someone she had on the stand.

 

"Why don't you want to go? You _always_ enjoy visiting your father. God only knows why, but you do."

 

"Mel . . . ." Mom hated it when Ma put down Dad.

 

"I just don't want to go, okay? It's my choice."

 

"Actually, it's not. You're still a minor, and if we say you're going, you're going."

 

"It will be good for you, Gus. After all the trouble you've been in with your friends, wouldn't it be nice to get away for a while?" Mom had her puppy-dog eyes out, as if they still worked.

 

"There's nothing wrong with my friends! And I don't want to go!"

 

"You're going. For the whole summer."

 

"What?!"

 

"We think it would do you some good, Gus, to get away from your friends a bit. They're not a very good influence on you. Brian said he would be happy to have you spend the summer with him and Justin. I know you barely remember Justin, but you loved him when you were a kid."

 

"I don't want to see Justin, and I don't want to spend the summer in shitty Pittsburgh!"

 

"Tough. You're going and that's final." Melanie slapped her hand on the kitchen counter for emphasis. "Deal with it."

 

"Mom? Please . . . ." Gus looked at Lindsay, giving her his best contrite expression. It had worked before, although his advancing years were shredding the cutesy image he once had.

 

"You're going Gus. _And_ you're going to have a great time. We'll join you in August for a few weeks before you have to come back."

 

No amount of pleading helped, so here he was, in Pittsburgh with JR. Bitterness burned like acid in his stomach. The _entire_ summer. He missed his friends already, missed the evenings spent smoking pot in an old treehouse, occasionally snorting coke when they had some available. Most of it was for selling and making money. None of them wanted to become crack heads, but the occasional indulgence made for some really good times.

 

Then his moms discovered some of his stash while nosing around in his closet where they did not belong. Since then, they would not leave him alone, always demanding to know where he was at all times, refusing to allow him to go to his friends' houses. It was unfair, he decided. After all, his schoolwork was superb, his grades the highest in the class. What was wrong with having a little fun so long as he continued to ace his tests?

 

"Gus, come on. We're almost the last ones to leave." JR stepped over him into the aisle, thanking the flight attendant who helped her retrieve her bag from the overhead compartment.

 

Heaving a deep sigh, he followed JR to the front of the plane, ignoring the goodbye from the captain. Time to start his shitty summer.

 

###

 

JR practically flew into Michael's arms, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek. Michael hugged and kissed her right back, smiling so hard that Gus wished it would split his face apart. He had never cared much for JR's dad or the way he spoiled JR rotten, but he had to admit Michael was always kind to him. When JR gave the bear a frown, he smirked.

 

"Dad, I don't really collect bears anymore."

 

"Oh . . . well. That's fine, I'm sure I can find someone who wants it."

 

Then Brian was there, striding forward and smiling as he slung an arm around Gus's shoulders.

 

"Hey, Sonny Boy. How's it going?"

 

Gus resisted the urge to hug him as he had in the past. He did not want to be here, after all.

 

"Fine, I guess." His grip tightened on his backpack, and he kept his gaze firmly on the floor.

 

"Hi, Gus."

 

He looked up slowly. A slight, blond guy approached from behind Brian and smiled a welcome. Gus recognized him from the pictures scattered around his moms' house. This was Justin, the man who ran off to New York and left his dad. Now he was back after all these years. Supposedly.

 

"Hey." He hoped he sounded just as suspicious as he felt.

 

Bingo. Justin's smile faltered, but he rallied enough to lean forward and give Gus's shoulder a squeeze. Gus looked away, gritting his teeth.

 

He followed the group toward the baggage area, JR chatting away about the past school year. Brian slowed down to walk beside him.

 

"So, how you doing? Everything okay?"

 

He wondered how much the moms had told his dad. Did he know about the drugs and money?

 

"Yeah. Got the highest scores in all my classes again."

 

"Excellent. I never doubted that for a second."

 

Gus saw Justin glance back at them. _Piss off_.

 

"I'm assuming your mom told you Justin's living with me now. I bought a new house so you'll have your own bedroom."

 

_What?_

"You sold the loft? You didn't tell me that!"

 

"Just did it two months ago. I wanted to surprise you. Got a cool media center, computer, and PlayStation set up and ready to go."

 

Gus's head throbbed as the blood rushed up in a wave of fury.

 

"And the best part is we have a pool in the backyard. No more going to the club. Justin and I have been looking forward to your visit."

 

It was too much coming at him too fast.

 

"I don't want to live in a new house! And I don't want to live with Justin either!"

 

The entire group froze, everyone turning to stare at him, including people walking by. _Shit_. He kept his gaze resolutely on the floor as he felt the tension building in the man beside him.

 

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way." His dad's voice sounded flat and calm, but Gus knew he was furious. "You will, nevertheless, be staying at our new house. And Justin is my partner. He lives with me, so I expect you to treat him with respect. Is that clear?"

 

The fire turned to ice in his stomach, and Gus bit his lip to hold back the tears. His dad had never spoken to him like this before, and it stung.

 

"Well, let's get the bags, shall we?" Michael sounded unbearably cheerful. "I'm starving! How about you, JR?"

 

The group moved on, Gus trailing behind. He saw Justin whisper something to his dad, but his father merely shook his head.

 

Well, this summer was going to be _great_.

 

###

 

Dinner was at the Liberty Diner, of course. Gus rolled his eyes at the squealing woman with the red-haired wig, and was thankful she wasn't _his_ grandmother. Poor JR was likely to smother before Debbie let her go.

 

He followed his father and Justin to a booth in the back and sat across from them, staring at the worn scratches in the Formica. Michael managed to pry JR from his mother, and they slid beside him.

 

"And there's Gussy!" Debbie pulled out her pen and pad from her apron. "You look more and more like your father every time I see you."

 

When Gus said nothing, Brian spoke up. "It's the Kinney blood. Stronger than anything." Gus could feel his dad's eyes boring into him.

 

"What'll you have, kiddo?"

 

"Cheeseburger and fries," he mumbled. There was a short silence.

 

"What's with him?" Debbie asked his father.

 

"Oh, don't mind him. He's got a case of teenage snobbery, but he'll get over it."

 

Gus gritted his teeth, fuming. While the others engaged in laughing conversation, he remained silent, reading and rereading the menu.

 

It was after the food arrived that his dad dropped the next bombshell.

 

"So . . . Gus."

 

Gus looked up at him for the first time since they had sat down.

 

"I've decided to have you come work with me over the summer. What do you think of a summer internship at Kinnetik?"

 

"What? You're gonna make me work?" _No way_.

 

"You're sixteen. Time to join the rat race with the rest of us. I'll have you work as Cynthia's assistant. She always needs more help."

 

"But I don't want to work! Especially where the boss is my dad!"

 

"I don't recall saying you had a choice." His dad was frowning, lips pressed in a thin line.

 

"Forget it! I won't do it!"

 

Silence dropped over the table as father and son glared at each other. Justin looked back and forth between them, his brow furrowed. Gus could see Debbie watching from behind the front counter. Michael decided to intervene.

 

"Hey, you know, Brian, I lost one of my employees last week. He left for college. If Gus wants to come work at the comic store for the summer, I sure could use the help."

 

The silence grew heavier as Brian continued to stare down his son. Finally, he relaxed and sat back in his seat.

 

"Well, would _that_ be okay with you, Gus? Because you _are_ getting a job this summer, whether you like it or not."

 

"Fine. I'll work at the comic store." The comic store was actually pretty cool. Much better than working under his dad's eye.

 

"Great! He can start on Monday!" Michael sounded relieved and resumed eating his barbecue pork sandwich.

 

"Thanks, Mikey." Brian had not touched his food. "Gus, what do you say to Michael?"

 

"Thanks, Michael," muttered Gus. He buried his face in his fries, wondering if they tasted cold from the iciness of his father's scrutiny.

 

He said nothing for the remainder of the meal but ate everything on his plate, including the ice cream Debbie brought him. As they stood to leave, he noticed his father had not eaten a thing.

 

###

 

After Michael dropped them off at his dad's new house, Justin disappeared, saying something about adding chemicals to the pool. Brian showed Gus around the house, starting upstairs and ending in his new room next to Justin's studio. There was a nice view of the pool from his room, and he could see Justin crouched next to the pool, his face lit by the pool lights. His dad also looked out the window, watching Justin.

 

"Now that we're alone, you want to tell me what your problem is?" The anger was gone, and his dad's tone was gentle.

 

"Nothing's wrong. I just don't want to be here."

 

"Because of Justin?"

 

"Because I just don't want to be! My friends are all in Toronto. I'll be bored here."

 

"You didn't used to be." His father sat on the bed, watching as Gus opened his suitcase and began unpacking. "I thought we always had fun."

 

"I’m not saying we didn't, Dad. But I'm older now, and Pittsburgh isn't my home. I want to be with my friends."

 

"I understand, but I hope you'll make some new friends over the summer. It would be nice if you gave Justin a chance to be one, too."

 

"Can't I just go back to Toronto and get a job there?"

 

"No, you can't. I'm sorry you're not happy to be here, but here you'll stay." His dad stood, pausing by the head of the bed to adjust a canvas hanging above. "I hope you will decide you like it here. Justin made this for you, by the way." He left without a backward glance, closing the door behind him.

 

Gus stepped closer to examine the painting. It was actually kind of cool, drawn in a retro-graffiti style. A wash of colors swirled around two figures in the center, a dark-haired man in a suit tossing a small boy in the air, their eyes only for each other. Even though they were drawn in caricature, it was obvious it was Brian and Gus.

 

He took a minute to absorb the feelings generated by the picture before taking it down and putting it in the closet. Sprawling on his back on the bed, he stuffed earphones in his ears and drowned out the past with Arcade Fire.

 

###

 

Justin spent some time straightening up around the pool, long enough for Brian and Gus to have the conversation that had been boiling under their skin all day. Finally, he went in to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water, listening but hearing nothing. Heading upstairs to the master bedroom, he found it dark, Brian lying motionless on the bed. His shirt and jeans were unbuttoned, feet bare and crossed at the ankles.

 

Closing the door behind him, he stripped off his pants and climbed on the bed, sitting next to Brian with his back against the headboard. Light from the bathroom splashed over Brian's legs, leaving his face in shadow.

 

"You okay?"

 

"Fucking peachy."

 

"He's a teenager, Brian. You know how they can be."

 

"Yeah, I seem to remember a certain twat of a seventeen-year-old who wouldn't listen to a word I said."

 

"I didn't need to listen. I heard the words you meant behind the ones you said."

 

Brian turned his head, lifting an eyebrow. "Really? 'Cause I'm pretty sure when I told you to get lost, I _meant_ get lost."

 

"Nope. What you really meant was _I love you, so don't give up on me just because I'm a complete moron_."

 

Brian sighed, shifting until his head lay across Justin's lap. Justin set the bottle on the bedside table and began carding his fingers through Brian's hair.

 

"I never gave up on you, and I hope you won't give up on him."

 

"Of course not. It's just . . . he's never been like this. Give me a moment to mourn the little boy who used to treat me like I was a god."

 

Justin smiled, his eyes wistful as he remembered a moment with Daphne from long ago. "Everyone has to step down from his pedestal at some point, but being a man doesn't make you less admirable. He paused his ministrations. "Do you think it's me?"

 

"What do you mean?" Brian nuzzled Justin's groin, exhaling warm breath over the bulge in his underwear.

 

"Maybe he resents me being here. He doesn't know me anymore."

 

"He will. Give him time."

 

"Well, what if he hates me?" Justin shifted as Brian pried his cock loose.

 

"No one could hate you, Sunshine."

 

"Chris Hobbs did."

 

"Do _not_ mention that name when I'm about to fuck you into the mattress."

 

"Brian . . . _ah_!" Justin jerked as Brian's tongue licked a stripe up his cock. "You know I can't talk when you do that!"

 

"We've talked. Time for my cock to come home to your ass."

 

Justin let out a grunt as Brian grabbed a hold of his hips and dragged him until he lay flat. His underwear disappeared over the side of the bed.

 

"I think we have sex more now than we ever did when we used condoms."

 

"If I had known how much more incredibly hot and tight you feel without a condom, I would never been a safety-first guy to begin with," said Brian.

 

"Well now that Gus is here, we should probably keep it down." Justin rolled over as Brian shucked his jeans and grabbed the lube. "I'm sure he doesn't want to hear his dad . . . oh, _fuck_!" He shuddered as Brian parted his buttocks and licked a path between. "God, Brian!"

 

Grinning, Brian grabbed a pillow and shoved it under Justin's head. "Better cover your mouth then, Sunshine. We both know how loud you can be when you're being rimmed."

 

Much later, with a spent and sated Justin curled in his arms, Brian lay awake, staring up at the painting hanging over their bed, _Promise_. Now that he had mended things with Justin, was his relationship with Gus going to fall apart?

 

_Not gonna happen, Sonny Boy. I won't make the same mistake with you that I made with Justin._

If only that thought would erase the doubt coiling in his stomach.    

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading, and especially for the kudos and comments! Special thanks to my beta, Zevgirl for her tireless editing.


	3. Family Matters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience in waiting for this chapter! Many thanks to Zevgirl for her expertise and encouragement. Comments are appreciated!

It was nearly noon when Gus finally appeared the next morning. He had his own bathroom attached to his bedroom, and Justin heard the shower start from his studio across the hall. By the time Gus slouched into the kitchen, Justin had whipped up a batch of pancakes.

 

"Morning, Gus." Justin offered a smile, but was met with a blank stare. "Want some pancakes?"

 

"I don't eat food this early. You got coffee?"

 

Justin lifted an eyebrow, glancing at the clock. _Okay._ "Sure. Sugar or creamer?"

 

"Black." Gus sat in stool at the bar, fiddling with his iPhone.

 

Justin poured him a mug and set it on the bar. With a sigh, he placed the pancakes on a plate and wrapped them in foil, storing them in the fridge. When he turned around, Gus was texting rapidly, coffee ignored.

 

"Want to swim today?"

 

Gus did not even look up. "Where's my dad?"

 

"He ran to the office to do a few things, but he'll be back soon." Justin placed his elbows on the bar and leaned forward. "I'm sorry you didn't know about the loft. It was kind of a recent decision."

 

"Yours or his?"

 

"His." Justin bit his lower lip, wishing he could get some eye contact at least. "He wanted you to have your own bedroom."

 

"So you two can fuck?"

 

Justin flattened his palms on the stainless steel counter, smoothing it as if the surface were as ruffled as he felt. "So you could have your privacy."

 

"So _you_ could have _your_ privacy."

 

Damn, but he missed the wide-eyed, grinning, little boy who had called him, "Jussin" and begged him to help color pictures. This was a different Gus, and Justin did not know how to handle him. Well, maybe it was time to be blunt.

 

"Do you have a problem with me being here?"

 

Gus put down the phone. "Why _are_ you here?"

 

 _Because your father reminded me exactly how much I need him._ Bad answer.

 

"We decided to give it another try."

 

"We or _you_?"

 

What was this . . . an interrogation? Justin opened his mouth with a retort, but the sound of the front door closing interrupted him.

 

"Hey," said Brian, breezing in with a grin. He set several bags on the counter. "Got some Thai for lunch."

 

"Cool," said Gus, reaching for a bag. "I'm starved."

 

Justin said nothing as father and son gathered the food, some bottles of water, and headed out to the deck to eat.

 

_Well, aren't we off to great start?_

Sighing, he grabbed his own box of food and followed them outside.

 

###

 

The cool air from the fridge ghosted over Gus's skin as he retrieved a can of Coke. The bottles of beer tempted him severely, but he knew better than to drink in front of his father, not that Dad was strict, but he made a token effort to follow the moms' rules. Maybe another day when Dad and Justin were not around . . . .

 

The can released a satisfying pop, and he guzzled it while staring out the window at the pool. He had to admit the pool was nice, and it would be cool to hang out there during the summer. If only he did not have to spend half the time in Michael's stuffy comic store, and if only Justin were absent, the visit would have been perfect. He wondered bitterly if working during the summer was Justin's idea.

 

He watched as Brian pushed himself out of the water and approached Justin, sitting in a lounge chair in the shade. He yelled something, and Justin grinned as Brian sat on the chair facing the blond. Brian reached forward, grabbing Justin's thighs and pulling him close while Justin made a hopeless attempt to escape. Smirking, Brian wrapped his palm around Justin's neck, pulling him into an open-mouthed kiss.

 

Gus froze, almost choking on the soda left in his throat. Of course, he had always known his father was gay, as were his moms. Kisses were so frequent in his household, they were a non-issue. In all his visits with his dad, however, he had never once seen him kiss anyone other than Michael. Gus knew his father slept around, but he had never brought home one of his tricks. This was the first time he had caught his father in a romantic gesture of any kind.

 

Even more shocking was the amount of heat between Dad and Justin. Kisses between his moms were perfunctory and casual, at least in front of their kids. This kiss going on in front of him was as passionate as kisses were in movies. This was a side of Dad he had never seen, a glimpse of the Brian Kinney he did not know, not to mention Justin, whom he did not wish to know at all.

 

Annoyed, he started for the patio door, pausing when he heard the doorbell, followed immediately by a barrage of insistent knocks. Another glance outside showed the men still liplocked, so Gus trudged to the front door, glad for the interruption.

 

He was not prepared for the sniffling, overweight, distraught woman standing on the porch. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her hair mussed, and her clothes consisted of a ragged t-shirt over too-tight leggings. He might have felt sorry for her if she had not been glaring at him as if he had committed an offense.

 

"Who are you? Isn't this Brian Kinney's house?"

 

"Uh, yeah." He deliberately took his time scrutinizing her. "I'm his son. Who are _you_?"

 

"His _what_?" The woman's mouth dropped open. "That bastard has a son?"

 

"You didn't answer my question." Maybe he needed to slam the door shut and get Dad.

 

"Well, I guess if you're his _son_ , I'm your aunt. That bastard's my brother."

 

He had an aunt? Dad had never mentioned a sister. Never. He knew he had a grandmother, but his dad had never allowed him to meet her.

 

"Look, I've never heard of you, so . . . ."

 

"Yeah, I just bet you haven't."

 

She shoved him aside with the back of her plump hand and brushed past.

 

"Hey wait! You can't just barge in here."

 

"Where is he? Where is that sick son of a bitch?"

 

The woman walked fast considering her weight, and Gus had to scurry to keep up.

 

"Brian! Where the hell are you?"

 

"He's on the patio, but he didn't say you could come in here."

 

He might as well have stopped a speeding truck. Before Gus had a chance to grab her arm, they were on the patio. She stopped so fast, he nearly ran into her. Irritated, he looked up to see why she had come to such an abrupt halt. To his surprise, Dad was still kissing Justin, and this was what the woman was now staring at, her entire face turning an alarming shade of red.

 

"You pervert! I should have known!"

 

Justin pulled back, his eyes widening. Brian turned around, _very_ slowly, his face transforming into a smile that was more a grimace of pain.

 

"Why, Claire. What _ever_ brings you here?" He stood, scrutinizing her figure with an exaggerated nod. "Please tell me you're not asking for money to fund a liposuction."

 

"You bastard." Claire's face flamed, tears threatening to spill. "You think I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to? You were never worth the time Mother spent praying for you."

 

"Oh, I totally agree," said Brian. "She should have been praying for your thieving children."

 

"At least my children aren't fags!"

 

Justin was on his feet, lips white with anger.

 

"Get out of our home."

 

" _Your_ home?" Her hysterical laugh set Gus's teeth on edge. "What, are you his latest plaything?"

 

"If you have a reason for being here, Claire, speak it now. I won't allow you to speak rudely to Justin or my son."

 

"You never told Mom about your son, did you?"

 

"Does it matter? She would have filled Gus's head with bigotry."

 

"Well, you certainly won't have to worry about that now." Fat tears spilled over her cheeks. "She died last night!"

 

Silence. Bewildered, Gus could only stare at his father, whose blank expression was carved from rock. Justin bit his lip, raising his hand to Brian's shoulder.

 

"Brian . . . ."

 

Brian moved away from him, shrugging off the contact. "So you're here asking for help, like with Dad."

 

"I can't do it all myself, Brian." Claire covered her face, choking back the sobs. "Trust me, I don't want you there, but I need your help. And you _are_ her son!"

 

Brian barked a laugh, his mouth twisting with bitterness. "Her _travesty_ of a son." He bent and grabbed his towel from the ground. "I'll meet you at her house after I shower. Go."

 

She turned and left without a glance at Gus. Obviously, she was not interested in a newfound nephew. Brian followed, also without a word to his son, his face set. Justin, at least, seemed to remember him. He walked over to Gus, looking worried.

 

"I take it you never met Brian's family?"

 

"You have?"

 

"Briefly. And regrettably." Justin rubbed the back of his neck, frowning at the doorway where Brian had disappeared. "I'm sorry about this, but I better go talk to Brian. It'll be okay."

 

He walked away before Gus could protest. Why couldn't _he_ go check on his father? His dad had confided in him before, and he was not a little kid anymore. Irritated, he trailed after Justin, wrapping his towel around his wet trunks and leaving a damp trail up the stairs.

 

Their bedroom door was closed, but he could hear the soft murmur of their voices. Leaning against the door, he pressed his ear to the cool wood.

 

"I'm coming with you."

 

"No, you're not. You're staying here with Gus."

 

"Brian. . . ."

 

" _No_ , Justin. This doesn't involve you, and you don't want to be involved, trust me."

 

"Excuse me? I'm your husband!"

 

_His husband?_

A harsh sigh was followed by gentler words. "I never said you weren't, but my mother isn't your problem. I'm just going to head over and get things settled, since Claire will be too waterlogged with tears to do anything. I'll come home after."

 

A long silence.

 

"Just promise me you'll come home."

 

"I said I would, didn't I?"

 

Gus scooted away, slipping quietly down the stairs and into his bedroom. Who was this mysterious grandmother, and why did his father seem to hate her? He listened to the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, and the front door opened and closed. It didn't look like his dad was going to explain things. He dressed and headed out to the kitchen.

 

Justin had changed to a t-shirt and shorts and was putting together a salad, slicing the vegetables with more force than necessary. Gus dropped quietly into a chair, watching him unnoticed. It wasn't until Justin turned toward the sink to wash the lettuce that he noticed Gus.

 

"Hey. Want a salad?" He offered a weak smile that didn't reach his eyes.

 

"Okay." He had a feeling his dad would not be home for dinner.

 

"Italian dressing all right?" The way Justin kept worrying his lip, Gus was surprised it wasn't bleeding.

 

"Okay." He wondered if he should offer to help, but did not feel up to being friendly with this man his dad had called his _husband_.

 

"Dad never mentioned any wedding."

 

Justin paused, lifting his gaze to meet Gus's. He put down the knife, dried his hands on the dish towel, and leaned forward on the counter.

 

"We didn't have one."

 

"Dad said you were his husband. If you didn't have a wedding, what did that mean?"

 

"Your dad and I have always agreed we don't need a piece of paper to be married or to love."

 

"You can't just call yourselves married without doing _anything._ Otherwise, anyone could." Gus leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

"In our hearts and minds, we are married. That's all we need."

 

Justin turned back to the salad, shredding the lettuce while Gus glared at his back.

 

"I take it that you're not happy I'm here, and I'm sorry for that." Justin sounded wistful. "We used to have fun coloring when you were little, but I know you probably don't remember."

 

"You're right. I don't."

 

He ignored the obvious disappointment on Justin's face as he headed down the hall to his room, slamming the door behind him.

 

Later, when Justin called him for dinner, he didn't go.

 

###

 

It was nearly midnight when Brian entered the office, tossing some forms from the funeral home on the desk. He went straight to the liquor cart and poured a scotch, emptying the glass in one gulp. The familiar burn shot down his throat and warmed his stomach, filling the cold pit that had formed there when Claire appeared at his home.

 

His mother had been prepared, leaving a note outlining exactly how she wanted her funeral. The note was addressed to Brian, surprisingly, specifying the casket, songs to be played, and clothes he should provide for her to wear in the casket. He had almost laughed when he saw the final cost and compared it to the amount of money she had left in the bank.

 

_One last way to screw me, Mother? You knew I could afford it, and you weren't afraid to demand it. I wasn't good enough for you when you were alive, but now I can pay for your golden path to heaven._

He poured another drink and raised it in salute.

 

_To you, Mother. May you finally be happy with Jesus. You certainly never were with me._

He downed two more shots before the room took on a comfortable blur, the anger souring to a vitriolic cesspool in his chest. He was reaching for the whiskey when the door rattled beneath a barrage of knocks.

 

"Brian!"

 

Mikey. Of course. He stumbled to the door and flung it open.

 

"Door's not locked. Come in and join the celebration of Joan Kinney, God's newest saint!"

 

He turned away, grabbed the bottle of Jack, and sprawled on the sofa. Michael sighed, closing the door behind him.

 

"Justin call you?" Brian waved him over.

 

"He thought you might need a little support."

 

Brian smiled wide enough to make Michael's teeth ache. "Got my support right here!" He held up the bottle and the same box he had been storing weed in for years. Michael sighed, removing his coat. It was going to be a long night.

 

An hour, two drinks, and several puffs of weed later, he did not even care. He sat on the end of the sofa with Brian's head in his lap, both of them drunk and higher than Mt. Everest.

 

"You remember Peter Voss?" Michael grinned, nostalgia clouding his unfocused eyes.

 

Brian snorted, holding the still-burning roach away from the sofa. "Voss the Hoss? From the high school football team?"

 

"Yeah, him! Remember that day when he called me a fag, and you just hauled off and punched him in the nose?"

 

"Yeah, I remember." Brian took another drag, watching the smoke spiral away, out of control. "His parents came over to my house that evening and told my parents what I did. I can hear his mother screeching about how I damaged her little boy."

 

"They did? You never told me that."

 

"After they left, the old man grabbed my elbow and dragged me upstairs to my room. Took off his belt and walloped me until blood ran."

 

"Jesus Christ, Brian!"

 

"Relax, Mikey. It wasn't anything new." Brain closed his eyes, and Michael wondered if he still saw blood. "Later, my dear mother came upstairs and opened my bedroom door. She just _stood_ there, staring at me while I lay on the bed on my stomach. I thought, maybe . . . _finally . . . but_ no, of course not. Foolish of me, huh?"

 

"She didn't do anything?"

 

"She _never_ did anything, Michael. You know what she said that night before walking away? 'Maybe now you'll behave.' Then she shut the door and left."

 

"Fuck." Michael bit his lip, wishing for the thousandth time he'd done something back then. If only Brian had let him tell someone.

 

Brian reached out, snuffing the remains of the joint in an ashtray on the coffee table. "Thing is, I still don't know why I even cared."

 

"She was your mom, Brian."

 

"She was no one." Brian rolled off Michael and pulled himself into a slouch. "Go home, Mikey. Go sleep with the Professor."

 

"Brian, don't stay here alone. Justin wants you to come home."

 

"He can wait. I need some space." Brian dragged Michael to his feet and gently ushered him to the door. Opening it, he tried to push Michael out, but his friend blocked the doorway.

 

"Promise me you won't do anything stupid."

 

Brian sighed, wiping the weariness from his face with an impatient hand. "I promise. And Michael? Tell Justin I'm fine, and I'll be home tomorrow."

 

With Michael gone, the room went cold and dark, and Brian stumbled drunkenly to the sofa, not even bothering to undress. The alcohol and weed had dulled the mess in his head, but he knew more awaited him in the morning. As the pleasant fog dragged him into dreams, the last thing he envisioned was blond hair threading between his fingers, the one scrap of reality to which he could still cling.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Avoidance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank-you for the kudos and comments! Every one matters and keeps me writing. As always, Zevgirl does an awesome job editing :)

"If you're having so much trouble making the lines straight, how about using something called a ruler? Now fix this and get it back to me before noon!"

 

Justin grimaced, pausing beside the glass block wall outside Brian's office. He lowered his eyes as a short brunette hurried out, pretending not to notice her reddened eyes as her high heels clicked away.

 

"Oh, thank God you're here. Maybe you can appease his royal highness since no one else can."

 

Justin turned around, already smiling as he faced Cynthia. "Not even you?"

 

"Not even me." She rolled her eyes. "He came in early and has been like this since. Won't tell me what crawled up his ass."

 

Justin sighed. If Brian had chosen to not tell his assistant about his mother's death, then Justin would refrain also.

 

"I'll see what I can do, okay?"

 

She patted his arm gratefully and headed briskly toward her own office. Justin straightened his shoulders, breathed deep, and entered the lion's lair.

 

Brian was standing before the window, his back to Justin, sipping from a Starbucks cup. Justin waited quietly until he turned around, grinning at Brian's startled expression.

 

"Still driving them with a whip?"

 

"None of them can do the job you could." Brian set the coffee on his desk, looking everywhere but at Justin. "I'm sorry I didn't come home last night."

 

"Sorry's bullshit." Justin stepped closer, noting the dark circles under his lover's eyes. "Michael said you were okay, so I didn't worry." He decided not to tell him that Michael had also recommended that Justin keep a close eye on Brian. "Anything I can do to help?"

 

"If you're talking about the funeral, it's taken care of. Mother, dear, left me a note specifying exactly how she wanted it. Took all the fun out of planning it. I was looking forward to ordering black roses." Brian picked up a sample sketch of an ad. "It will be held tomorrow at eleven." He turned the ad around for Justin's perusal. "What do you think?"

 

Justin took the sketch, tossing it on the desk. "I think you should take the day off. I know work gives you something to keep yourself occupied, but you're not really up to this." _Neither are your employees._

 

"I'm _fine_. If you want someone to console, go see my sister." Brian sat down and turned to his computer. "Now if you don't mind, I need to get some stuff done since I won't be here tomorrow."

 

"Brian . . . ."

 

"I'm. _Fine_."

 

Justin bit his lip. "You're not, but I'll give you some peace." He approached his partner and placed a kiss on his cheek. "I'm still on to you," he whispered. "You don't fool me."

 

Ignoring the icy glare from his partner, he left, his shoes squeaking mercilessly on the polished floor.

 

###

 

"So, how do you like your Dad's new house?"

 

Gus glanced over at Michael, who was smiling far too much for this early in the morning. His "uncle" had picked him up at 8 A.M. for his first day at the comic store. Justin had woken him at 7:30 with a full minute of loud knocks at his bedroom door, and Gus barely had a chance to shower and dress before Michael was barging in the front door yelling for him. Having ignored Justin's goodbye, he now wished he had grabbed coffee on his way out. There had been no sign of his dad.

 

"It's okay."

 

"That pool is pretty cool, huh?" Michael nodded to himself as he drove toward Liberty Avenue. "Your dad said I can bring JR over for a swim whenever she wants."

 

"She doesn't like to be called JR anymore."

 

"Yeah, she told us that, but I keep forgetting. She still seems like my baby girl, you know?"

 

Gus rolled his eyes. Why did parents have such a hard time letting their kids grow up? Did they want their children dependent on them forever?

 

"Anyway, I got some errands to run today after I show you around, but don't worry. Ashley agreed to come in and give you some first-day training."

 

"Ashley?"

 

"Yeah, she's my other employee. I used to run the store myself, but these days, I'm going back to school." Michael grinned, clearly proud of himself. "Ben suggested it. I get a discount at the college where he's a professor, so we can afford it. So I need help running the store. I had another guy working with Ashley, but he resigned, so you're a godsend."

 

Yeah, right. More like a dad-send.

 

"I'll pay you what Ashley makes. That alright?"

 

"Sure." What else could he say?

 

"You getting used to having Justin around?"

 

Gus grit his teeth. "He's annoying."

 

"Really?" Michael turned his attention from driving to give Gus a closer look. "Justin's pretty easy-going, and he was looking forward to getting to know you again. He used to babysit you a lot, you know."

 

The thing was Gus actually remembered Justin from when he was little. Not in a solid sense, but in flashes of color and movement: light reflected on blond hair, a larger hand guiding his own as he held a crayon, a blinding smile when Gus managed to complete a somersault. Maybe if he had been younger, he might have enjoyed Justin's return. He was not a naive child anymore, however, and there were other images he could not forget: the sadness radiating from his dad whenever Gus used to ask where Justin was, the time he caught a glimpse of Dad placing a picture of Justin in the bottom of a drawer, the steely glare Dad gave anyone who said Justin's name.

 

In the end, he said nothing. Uncle Michael was not a bad guy, but Gus did not know where he stood. He definitely did not want Michael repeating things to his father.

 

Michael parked on the street across from the store. Unlocking the door, he led Gus in, flipping the sign in the window to open. Dust motes danced in the musty air, falling to rest on stacks of comic books. A younger Gus had spent hours here in the past, resting on a beanbag in the corner and perusing the latest Spider-Man while his dad visited with Michael. Now it appeared he would be standing on the other side of the counter.

 

Michael led him to the storage room first, explaining how the boxes of comics were arranged and showing him all the titles.

 

"When you have free time, come back here and look through all these. Familiarize yourself with what we stock so that when people ask you if we have something, you'll know."

 

Periodically, the bell hanging over the front door would chime, and Michael would leave him to go help a customer. During one such prolonged interruption, Gus went to the window by the back door and stared out at the alley, wondering if he had time to sneak a smoke before Michael returned. His moms frowned on smoking and marijuana, but maybe Michael wouldn't care? He seemed to recall his dad talking about the times he had shared weed with his best friend.

 

"Thinking about running away?"

 

He whirled to find a petite brunette with a pixie-cut and nose ring eyeing him from across the storage room. She wore a hot-pink tank top and a black denim mini-skirt with flip-flops. Her fingers and toes were painted black, but she wore little makeup. She was grinning while snapping her gum in a manner that reminded him strongly of Grandma Debbie.

 

"Trust me, it's not that bad here. As long as you're not allergic to dust and comic books."

 

"Are you Ashley?"

 

"I prefer Ash, but Mr. Novotny won't use it. You the new employee?"

 

"I'm Gus. I'm only here for the summer."

 

"Not from around here?"

 

"I live with my moms in Toronto." He waited to see how she would react. Most people looked confused when he mentioned his two mothers, but Ashley merely cracked her gum.

 

"Oh, that's cool. I've never been to Canada."

 

"My dad wanted me to have a summer job while I'm visiting him, so he stuck me here. Mr. Novotny's his best friend."

 

"He gay?"

 

"How'd you know?"

 

She laughed. "Most people around here are. This is Liberty Avenue, you know."

 

"Yeah, I know. Been coming here all my life."

 

Michael walked in, carrying his keys. "Hey, Ashley, I see you've met Gus. Can you show him around? I'll show him the cash register tomorrow, but he can help you with inventory and learning where everything is." He squeezed Gus's shoulder. "I gotta go find a new suit to wear to your Grandma's funeral tomorrow, so I'll be back later, okay?"

 

He left, the bell ringing in his wake. Ashley headed out to the front, beckoning to Gus to follow. Twirling around, her arms spread wide, she surveyed the empty store.

 

"Welcome to our kingdom. Kinda dreary, I know, but it's an easy job, and Mr. Novotny's nice." She placed her back up against the checkout counter and pushed herself on top. "You gay too?"

 

"Me? No."

 

"Girlfriend back home?"

 

"Nope."

 

"I had a boyfriend during the school year, but I finally figured out he was a dick. So that's done." She pulled her gum out of her mouth and tossed it the nearby wastebasket. "Sorry about your grandmother."

 

"It's okay. I've never met her."

 

"Wow, really? Why not?"

 

"She and Dad didn't get along."

 

The bell chimed, and a boy sauntered in, smirking when he saw Ashley.

 

"Hey, Ash. Where's Rod? Haven't seen him lately."

 

"He quit a few weeks ago, Keith. This is his replacement." She flipped her hand at Gus.

 

"Ah, that sucks." He glanced at Gus. "No offense, man, but Rod was one of my best customers."

 

"Keith, take your business elsewhere. You know if Mr. Novotny catches you dealing in his store, he'll call the cops." Ashley shot him a glare, hopping back off the counter.

 

Keith held up both hands, palms out. "Hey, relax. You think I'm stupid? I don't do that stuff when he's around." He pinned Gus with narrowed eyes. "You gonna be a problem, man?"

 

Hell, maybe this summer wouldn't be so bad after all. Less than a week here, and he'd found a distributor. A little weed and a hit of coke would go a long way to easing his misfortune.

 

"It's cool." Gus leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. "In fact, I wouldn't mind a little of your business."

 

Keith leafed through some comic books, eyeing Gus. "You wouldn't, huh? How do I know I can trust you?"

 

"You can get me in trouble just as easily. My dad's best friends with Mr. Novotny. He finds out I'm buying, and I'm in big trouble."

 

"Well, I'll think about it, okay?" Keith gave Ashley a wink and walked out just as two younger boys entered. Ashley grabbed Gus's arm and dragged him to the storage room.

 

"Hey, just so you know, Keith's bad trouble. I'm not your mom, and you can do what you want, but I just wanted to warn you since you're new here."

 

"Trouble?"

 

"He gets his stuff from people who don't mess around. I heard a buyer got shot when he didn't pay up. Just thought you should know."

 

"Okay." He gave her a warm smile. "Thanks."

 

The rest of the morning passed uneventfully. Michael dropped by at lunch, armed with several boxes from the diner. Then he was out the door, headed to a class. Gus didn't mind; Ashley was amiable and interesting. Her sister was deaf, and Ashley knew American Sign Language. She wanted to become an interpreter when she graduated from high school. Gus had no idea what career to pursue, and the thought of the impending decision filled him with dread.

 

"My dad owns an advertising agency. I guess I could always work there if I can't decide."

 

"He have a partner? I like Mr. Novotny's husband. He's so nice and damn, but he's hot!"

 

Gus grimaced. "He has a guy living with him, but it's complicated. See, they met sixteen years ago when I was born. I don't know the whole story, but it sounds like they were always getting together, breaking it off, and then reuniting again. Finally, after five years, my dad's boyfriend left for New York to pursue an art career. He never came back. Suddenly, a year ago, I guess they ran into each other again, and Justin moved back to Pittsburgh to live with my dad."

 

"Sounds romantic." Ashley paused to ring up a customer's purchase. "You like him?"

 

"I wish he'd never come back."

 

Ashley frowned. "Why? Aren't they happy?"

 

"Like I said, it's complicated."

 

"Try me. I love a good romance."

 

Gus sighed. "First, you need to understand that my dad is twelve years older than Justin. They met when he was only seventeen."

 

"You're kidding!"

 

"Nope. I don't get it either, believe me. But they hit it off. My mom said they had a turbulent but passionate relationship. She said Justin was the only man my dad ever loved. But then he went to New York and never came back."

 

"What happened?"

 

"My moms said they don't know. Dad wouldn't talk about it."

 

"But now they're back together! That's awesome."

 

"No it isn't." Gus scratched his head in frustration. "What happens if Justin leaves him again? I don't know if I can trust him, and I don't want to see my dad get hurt. I have no confidence that he's going to stay, and if he leaves, it will kill my dad. He's been so different since Justin came back . . . happier than I can ever remember. But there's no way Justin's going to be happy living in the Pitts. He's a well-known artist."

 

"I can't imagine anyone wanting to live here," said Ashley. "It's so _boring_. You're lucky to live in Toronto. Maybe you should give Justin a chance, though. Who knows what happened between them before?"

 

Gus shook his head, clenching his fists. "I _won't_ let him hurt my dad. I'm his only family, so I have to watch out for him, you know?"

 

"So responsible," Ashley laughed. "I can't stand my dad!"

 

_We take care of each other_ , thought Gus. _It's the way it's always been._

It's how it always would be. Let Justin run back to New York; Gus would be there to pick up the pieces.

 

###

 

Brian hadn't come home.

 

Justin stared listlessly out the front window, waiting for headlights to appear in the driveway. It was midnight, and doubtlessly, Brian was drinking himself into another stupor at his office. The drinking didn't worry him. The fact that they had not had sex since Brian's mother died, did. Sex was Brian's passion. He rarely went an entire twenty-four hours without at least one fuck, usually much more than that. For him, it was sustenance, a form of religion worthy of Brian's respect. It was also their main form of communication, a frenzied storm of give and take, a rhythm of love where words weren't needed.

 

In the old days, Justin would have worried that Brian was taking his needs elsewhere, but he wasn't worried about that now. Since they had started barebacking, Brian had discovered a new appreciation for monogamy. Sex had become a new world of intimacy and pleasure that Brian had never known and would not now give up. Just thinking about how it felt . . . Brian coming inside him without a condom . . . made Justin hard. No, Brian wasn't out tricking; he was sure of it.

 

He heard movement in the kitchen. Gus was probably getting a snack or something to drink. Michael had dropped him off after his shift, and following his usual routine, Gus had retreated to his room. When Justin called him for dinner, he ate quickly and returned to seclusion. Justin had tried to ask him questions about his first day at the comic store, but the answers were sullen and short.

 

"Dad not coming home again?"

 

Accusation practically dripped from Gus's words. Justin sighed and turned to acknowledge the moody teen.

 

"Apparently, not. He's having a hard time with this, I think. Don't take it personally. I'm sure he doesn't mean be ignoring you."

 

"I wasn't worried about _that._ " Gus looked out the window for a moment. "I never met his mother. What was she like?"

 

Surprised that Gus was actually engaging him in a conversation, Justin paused to think. "I met her once, but we didn't talk. She didn't like that your dad was gay. Brian told me she was very religious. And cold. I don't think he had a happy childhood."

 

"So she was a bitch?"

 

_He sounds just like his father_ , Justin thought. _Direct and uncompromising_.

 

"Seems that way. Sorry this had to happen at the beginning of your visit here. We weren't planning on such a rough start."

 

"And what _were_ you planning? Bonding activities to bring us all together?"

 

Clever boy.

 

"Well, yes." Justin stepped closer to the teen, wishing for any kind of connection. He hated the tension between them. "We didn't want you to feel left out or uncomfortable."

 

At first, Gus looked as if he would respond, but merely shrugged instead. Retreating into the darkness, he headed back to his room. Justin remained by the window for another hour before exhaustion finally sent him to bed.

 

Brian never appeared.

 

 

 


	5. Grief

Dark clouds and muggy air accompanied Joan Kinney's funeral. Whenever his dad wasn't looking, Gus kept yanking his tie away, desperately trying to let some air down his damp shirt. Brian had finally come home early in the morning, bearing a new suit for Gus to wear. With Justin, they had arrived at the funeral home by ten, and Gus lingered in the back while his father took his place by the coffin with his sister. Justin had offered to stand with Brian, but his father declined. The deep furrow between Justin's eyebrows hadn't disappeared since.

 

His Aunt Claire looked slightly more refined than she had two days ago, wearing a cheap polyester dress that dropped in a straight line to her knees. She made no effort to conceal her red-rimmed eyes, and a wrinkled handkerchief never left her hand. Apparently, she was single, since Gus saw no man with her. Two young men leaned on the wall near the casket, sneering at their dead grandmother whenever their mother wasn't watching. Considering how often she kept turning and glaring at them, Gus was certain she knew they were misbehaving. Gus had to remind himself they were his cousins, although they looked nothing like him or his dad. Overweight and unshaven, they regarded everyone with contempt, occasionally snickering at some shared joke. They reminded Gus of hoodlums hanging out at a bar. Not a pleasant image.

 

His moms had not been able to come, so the only people he knew here were his dad's "family." Michael and Ben had just arrived with JR, and she gave him a little wave when she saw him. Grandma Debbie had already drowned him in a bear hug, and Emmett and Ted had stopped by to say hello before taking a seat.   After giving Brian a hug, JR approached Gus, plopping herself next to him.

 

"I didn't know you had a secret grandmother," she said.

 

"I didn't either." He and JR got along reasonably well. When she was little, she had followed him everywhere, crying whenever he refused to play with her. Proud to be the subject of her admiration, he had taught her how to play softball and soccer. Now that she was older, he found her more annoying, but often reflected that she really wasn't such a bad sister.

 

"My dad said she wasn't very nice," she said. "Maybe it was better you didn't meet her." She looked around, spotting Justin talking to Emmett. "So how do you like Justin?"

 

"I don't." He saw how Justin kept glancing at Brian, and it irritated him. What had he done to make his dad sleep in his office the past two nights? Had he said something hurtful?

 

"Why not? Ben says he's pretty nice."

 

"He left Dad all those years ago, J. Then suddenly he reappears? I wonder how he got Dad to take him back, and how long he will stay this time."

 

"Maybe he's back for good. Why do you think he'll leave again?"

 

"I don't know if he will, but I don't trust him. I just don't want Dad to get hurt."

 

They were interrupted by the minister, asking everyone to take a seat. Brian pulled him aside to say something, and the man smiled sadly, squeezing Brian's shoulder as he whispered back. Brian merely shrugged and took his seat at the front next to Justin. As Gus sat with them, he wondered what his dad had said. Brian had made his views on religion clear to Gus long ago. If God expected him to be straight, then he wanted nothing to do with Him. Gus had explained that more churches were becoming accepting of homosexuals, as well as gay marriage. It didn't change Brian's opinion. He scoffed at the congregations welcoming gays to church. According to him, the welcome was fake and merely a way to get more money.

 

The service was dull, the pastor's voice a steady drone that nearly put Gus to sleep. He spoke a great deal of Joan's dedication to God and her service to the church, but Gus noticed he said little about Joan as a mother or wife. When the minister asked if anyone wished to speak, only a few old ladies rose to sing Joan's praise in wavering voices that grated on the ear. Glancing to the side, Gus spotted his father rolling his eyes at their words. His Aunt Claire spent the service dabbing her eyes with the soaked handkerchief.

 

After the service concluded, everyone was invited to spend one more moment with Joan in her casket. No one stepped forward, so Gus, who hadn't yet seen his grandmother, decided that this would be his last chance to see his dad's mother. Curious, he approached the casket and stared down at the lifeless body within. He had never seen a dead person before. Truthfully, he didn't see why people wanted to see their loved ones like this. It was so obvious the person was long gone, leaving nothing but a shell.

 

"I suspect she's happier now than she ever was in life." His father appeared at his side, his expression inscrutable. "Come on, Sonny Boy. Trust me, you didn't miss anything."

 

He rode in a limousine with his dad, Justin, Aunt Claire, and her two sons. His cousins spent the ride exploring the limo's conveniences and even tried to sample the liquor. A sharp glare from Brian had them slouching back in their seats.

 

"You still gay?" asked one.

 

"You still a thief?" responded Brian.

 

Justin choked back a laugh, and Claire shot him a heated glare. Gus wondered what Brian meant.

 

The other young man nodded at Justin. "This your little faggot?"

 

Justin smiled benignly. "Maybe he's _my_ faggot."

 

Brian grinned and deliberately leaned over to give Justin a lingering kiss that made even Gus blush.

 

"Brian!" Claire's face was beet red. "Keep your perverted actions away from my boys!"

 

"Well, dear sister, _I_ wasn't the one using words like _faggot_."

 

"Our mother is about to be buried, and you would profane this occasion?"

 

"Oh, I'm sorry. You're actually sad about this?" Brian gave her an incredulous look. "Aren't you thrilled at the thought of no more Mommy embarrassing you with her alcoholic binges? I seem to recall you begging me to get her out of your hair. Well, now she's out of all of our hair."

 

"You're a monster." Spittle landed on Gus's face and he recoiled from his aunt, unintentionally leaning against Brian. Glancing up, he caught his dad's mischievous wink and couldn't resist grinning back.

 

The rest of the ride was silent, the two families refusing to look at each other. Gus was relieved when they reached the cemetery and took a seat by the graveside. Gus watched as others arrived, crowding in the space behind the family. Emmett stood directly behind Gus and gave his hair a playful ruffle, but Gus didn't mind. He and Emmett got along fabulously . . . as the old queen loved to say.

 

His dad had relapsed to his blank expression, the playfulness he displayed in the limo snuffed out. He saw Justin whisper something, but Brian didn't reply. The hole in the ground seemed to hold a morbid fascination for him, and his eyes never left it as the minister took his place by the coffin.

 

"We gathered earlier to celebrate the life of Joan Kinney, and now we gather to say goodbye. As we stand here before her final resting place, let us remember her as she was in life."

 

As the pastor began to extol his grandmother's virtues, Gus stole another look at his dad. The way he held himself, rigid as stone with hands clenched on his lap, was alarming compared to the usually relaxed father he knew. He saw Justin try to hold Brian's hand, but his dad jerked away.

 

"She spent her life following God's path, encouraging others to find God as well. This spiritual woman supported her husband and raised two children, passing her wisdom from her soul to theirs . . . ."

 

"Stop."

 

The minister froze, staring as Brian Kinney rose from his chair. Justin started to reach forward as if to yank Brian back, but abruptly dropped his hand, undoubtedly realizing there was no way to stop Brian when he had something to say.

 

Brian spread his arms wide and turned to the closed casket.

 

"This what you wanted, Mom? A glorious burial, angels singing your name, while your reverend waxes on about your heavenly virtues? Was this how you envisioned it all these years? Are you happy now?" Brian placed his right hand on the lid, and leaned his face close to the polished surface, dropping his voice to a harsh whisper. "Well, fuck that."

 

The collective gasp from the mourners echoed Gus's, but the minister oddly remained quiet, scrutinizing Brian with a face that strangely demonstrated understanding. Gus wondered if he was aware of Brian's true relationship with his mother.

 

"Brian, how could you!" Claire started to stand, but surprisingly, the minister waved her back. His eyes were sad, but he stepped back to let Brian speak.

 

"That's a good question, Claire. How could I? How could I sit here and listen to this drivel? You and I know the truth, but I'm the only one with the balls to tell it." Brian turned away from her and swept his gaze over the mourners. "You heard me right. I'm going to tell the truth!"

 

Brian bowed his head, raising a fist to his mouth. Gus was close enough to see his hands were trembling. Justin saw it too and tried to reach out to his partner, but Brian shook his head, pulling away. Spreading his arms wide, he gave the crowd a maniacal grin.

 

"Look at me! I'm _gay_. Joan Kinney has a _gay_ son. I'm her shame and her curse! She must have worn out her knees praying for me after she found out. It gave her purpose! She had a new crusade . . . saving me." He lowered his arms, burning eyes sweeping the gathering. "And you may say, 'How righteous of her! How much she must have loved you to try to save you!'"

 

The laugh that followed had an edge of hysteria, and Gus could barely stand to hear it. He had seen his father angry, and he had seen his father drunk, but never had he seen this: Brian Kinney losing his shit.

 

"Well, guess what? You're wrong! You see, Mom never loved us to begin with, so how could she have prayed with love? We were her burden to bear, not to love. While our father beat us, she lifted not one finger!"

 

Claire was weeping, face buried in her handkerchief. Her sons sat like twin stones.

 

"She never gave us comfort, never gave us praise, never gave us a hug. What did she do, our Saint Joan? She buried herself in bottles, drowned herself in booze. Maybe you feel sorry for her? Well, I don't!"

 

He shot a glare at the pastor.

 

"And now you speak of her soul passing on wisdom! All she passed to me was hatred and fury, resentment of her deplorable marriage. She taught me that relationships were a one-way street to misery."

 

Brian paused, his eyes softening as he reached down to take Justin's hand, pulling him up to stand beside Brian.

 

"This is my partner, Justin. It wasn't my mother who taught me love. It was this man. He stood beside me no matter what. When I had cancer, my mother prayed that sickness would show me the error of my ways. Justin made me chicken soup, and rubbed my back when I vomited. He stood beside me while I tried to destroy myself and what we had. He forgave me while I struggled to unravel the mess Joan and Jack Kinney made of my head."

 

Silence cloaked the gathering. Gus glanced around, half-expecting to see people leaving, but no one moved. Emmett and Ted were standing with their arms around each other, smiling. Debbie was crying, but her face shone with pride. Michael and Ben held hands, looking concerned.

 

Brian turned back to the minister. "Thank you for letting me speak, Reverend. This mockery is once again all yours. Time for me to go."

 

Still holding Justin's hand, Brian turned to Gus. "Coming, Gus?"

 

The crowd parted as Brian led his partner and son away from the grave, followed closely by Brian's true family. The last thing Gus heard was not the minister's voice, but the broken sobs of his aunt.

 

Brian walked fast, his long legs propelling him to the limo ahead of the rest of them. Once there, he braced his arms against the trunk, bowing his head as if exhausted. The rest stood back awkwardly, unsure how to proceed and obviously worried that Brian might explode again.

 

"Michael, would it be too much trouble for Gus to stay with you guys tonight?" Speaking quietly, Justin tilted his head meaningfully toward Brian, who hadn't moved.

 

Gus opened his mouth to protest, but Michael gave his shoulder a sharp squeeze. "Sure! We can have a movie night with tons of popcorn. What do you say, Gus?"

 

He couldn't think of anything he wanted less, but both Michael and Ben were giving him hard stares.

 

"Fine." He jammed his hands into his pocket, walking away before his anger burst out and scorched the entire cemetery. JR ran after him, leading the way toward Michael's car.

 

"It won't be _that_ bad. They have some pretty good movies."

 

"I'm getting kicked out of my own home for the night, J."

 

"Your dad's hurting, Gus. Justin probably wants some time alone to help him."

 

"Why can't _I_ help him?"

 

She sighed, patting his back. "You're his child."

 

Gus turned around, glancing back. The others were returning to their cars, leaving his father and Justin alone by the limo. His father hadn't moved, and the sight of that strong back bent in weariness sent shivers along Gus's skin.

 

###

 

Wearing only a towel, Justin padded out to the kitchen, leaving a path of damp footprints leading back to the shower. He paused when he saw the empty bottle of vodka sitting on the bar. _Shit_. Brian was obviously intent on drinking himself into oblivion. Again. Grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge, he went in search of his lover.

 

The ride home had been silent. Justin knew better than to engage Brian in conversation too soon. Justin made a late lunch of sandwiches, but Brian declined to eat, grabbing a bottle of Chivas Regal and heading out to the patio. Deciding to give him some space, Justin retired to his studio and attempted to get some work done. Instead, he spent the afternoon staring out the window where he could see Brian lying on a lounge chair, motionless except for the occasional pull from his bottle. Justin couldn't remember the last time he had felt so helpless.

 

He remembered Jack Kinney's death, the way Brian blew it off as trivial, refusing to allow Justin to accompany him to the funeral. Michael had said Brian's relationship with his parents was tenuous at best, hinting that Brian had spent most of his teenage years at the Novotny house just to avoid home. Brian himself would not talk about them, but he dropped tiny pieces of information from time to time, enough for Justin to glean that Jack had been abusive and Joan was an alcoholic.

 

Since Justin had returned from New York, Brian had not mentioned his mother even once, and Justin had assumed they were still estranged. It was clear to him now that Gus had never met the Kinney family. It didn't surprise him that Brian would protect his son from the lack of love and acceptance he had been denied. Debbie had always been Brian's "mom," and his assorted friends were his family. When Justin came along, they became his family also.

 

After realizing he would get no work done, Justin went and took a long, hot shower. It cleared his head of the frustrated fog impeding his work, but didn't fill it with any ideas of how to help Brian. Something needed to be done, however. He wasn't going to allow Brian to go to bed drunk for the third night in a row.

 

He found Brian standing by the patio doors watching the sun set, a half empty glass in his hand. He had removed his jacket and tie, and his shirt was unbuttoned to his waist. His feet were bare. He didn't turn when Justin approached, instead raising his glass in salute to the rosy horizon.

 

"As the day turns to night, so life turns to death." Tilting the glass back, he finished the vodka in one swallow.

 

Justin sighed. "Not yours. Not yet."

 

Wincing as Brian swayed dangerously to one side, he took the glass from Brian's slack hand, pressing the water into its place.

 

"Drink some water, Brian, or you'll have the granddaddy of all headaches tomorrow."

 

"So? I'm immune to pain. I've had years to build a thick skin." Nevertheless, he obeyed, taking several sips.

 

"No one's immune. Sometimes, we can fool ourselves into thinking we don't feel it, but it's still there."

 

"Does the memory of the bashing still hurt? After all these years?"

 

Confused at the change of subject, Justin frowned. "You know it does. I've awakened you with my nightmares."

 

"Do you fool yourself into thinking you can't feel it?"

 

 

"I did for a while, remember? Instead of acknowledging it, I tried not to face it. It didn't help . . . not until I dealt with it."

 

"With the Pink Posse." It wasn't a question.

 

"Yes."

 

Leaning his forehead against the glass, Brian closed his eyes.

 

"You never told me what happened that night. The one when you came home and said you were done with it. Done with Cody."

 

Justin hadn't. He hadn't wanted to talk about it, about how the gun felt in his hand, about the rush of power he felt as he stared down Chris Hobbs. He hadn't wanted to admit how close he came to solving his pain with death. He didn't want to now, either, but maybe Brian needed to hear it.

 

"We went to Chris Hobbs house, Cody and I. We had the gun. I wasn't going to kill him at first, but he was so _callous,_ so uncaring of what he had done to me. He practically laughed in my face when I demanded an apology." Justin drew his hand over his face, letting the memory play on the inside of his closed eyelids. "All I saw was black. Just _black_. Cody gave me the gun, and I shoved it into Chris's face . . . that damn face that haunts every nightmare. All I could think was, 'Blow it away. Blow it away, and the nightmare will disappear. It will all disappear.'"

 

"But you didn't do it."

 

"I was so _close._ But then I saw more than black. I saw tears . . . not tears of regret but of fear. And I knew those tears. They were mine. Chris made me fear, and I did the same to him. That's why I stopped. Because I saw him in myself, and myself in him."

 

"And you didn't want to be him."

 

"No, I didn't."

 

Brian took a long gulp of water. "I didn't want to be my parents."

 

 _Now we're getting somewhere._ This was as much as Brian had ever opened up about his parents to Justin.

 

"You're not."

 

"Aren't I? I soothe my anger with booze, just like Saint Joan. I run from the idea of marriage and family, just like Jack. How am I any different, Sunshine?"

 

Justin slid in between the patio door and Brian. When Brian refused to look at him, he placed his palm on his partner's cheek, turning his face toward Justin.

 

"You aren't them. They didn't see where they were wrong, and you _do_. You stopped yourself from going too far." Brian shook his head, trying to turn away, but Justin grabbed his shoulder. "You're still able to _feel_ , Brian. I know how hard it is for you to acknowledge it, but you love Gus. You love me. You love Michael. You _love._ "

 

Brian was shaking, his face buried in one hand. Justin pulled it away.

 

"Look at me, Brian, because this is important. You carry all of us with your love. You keep us together, when we would fall. You are not the product of Jack and Joan. You are _Brian_ , and if they couldn't accept you, then that's on them. Because _we_ love you. You are loved. You hear me? _You are loved_."

 

Justin was trembling as hard as Brian now and didn't resist when Brian pulled his hand back. The moment shimmered, wavering as Justin waited to see if Brian would run or face his demons. When Brian finally leaned forward to touch his forehead to his lover's, Justin placed his palm on Brian's chest. He could feel the heart beneath racing, hear Brian's ragged breath, smell the scent of sweat and grief.

 

And then Brian moved, and the moment exploded.

 

Blindingly fast, Brian had Justin pinned against the glass, wrists held in a firm grip above his head as their mouths came together. The towel slipped off, forgotten and unneeded. The glass, cold and smooth, held Justin firm against Brian's heat, as the kiss deepened and devoured. It was fury and sorrow come together, but Justin was strong enough to withstand it.

 

Hell, he was strong enough to embrace it.

 

When Brian pulled him to the floor, he tore at Brian's shirt, heard the sound of cloth tearing. He didn't even know who got Brian's pants off, and it didn't matter. Emotions like this weren't meant to be covered. They needed to bared, raw and broken as they were, and Justin knew of no one as raw and broken as Brian.

 

It was time to put him back together.

 

There was no lube handy and no time to worry about it. When Brian entered Justin, searing hot and slicked with saliva only, there was pain, but Justin pushed past it, drawing his lover as deep as he could. Brian curled over Justin, gripping his shoulders and pulling them both into a twisted knot, with Justin's legs wrapped tightly around Brian's waist. Neither could bear to pull away enough to thrust, so Brian rolled his hips, short jerks that kept him seated deep within his partner.

 

They rocked together, Justin arching helplessly as Brian drove harder, soft growls emanating from his throat as he nipped at Justin's throat. Barely able to move, Justin submitted, letting Brian control the rhythm while whispering desperately in Brian's ear.

 

"That's it . . . let it out, Brian. Come on, give it to me. Ah . . . _yes . . . ."_

Brian lost his pace, groaning into an open-mouthed kiss, as his hips jerked, violent and eager. Justin threw his head back.

 

_So deep . . . God . . . ._

He felt it then, Brian's release, scalding in its intensity. Overwhelmed, his lips parted in a silent scream, his body convulsing within Brian's firm grip. He could sense it, the pain pouring from his lover, and he accepted it, welcomed the necessary purge so that healing could come.

 

For a time, they floated in the gentle peace that comes after such a violent climax. When Justin finally opened his eyes, their sweat had cooled, but his chest was damp. Brian lay sprawled on top of him, partially turned to the side, his cheek resting between Justin's nipples. There were no sobs, just a quiet outflow of anguish turned tranquil.

 

They lay together as twilight turned to night, Justin's fingers tracing comforting patterns on Brian's back until he fell asleep. He knew Brian wouldn't heal overnight, but perhaps now he could take some first steps. Justin couldn't change Brian's past, but he would give his husband whatever support he needed. If Brian's family ever tried to hurt him again, Justin would fight them with all he had.

 

He was strong enough to handle it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments keep me writing! I love to hear your thoughts on the story. As always, I owe my beta, Zevgirl, extra thanks for getting this back so quickly :)


	6. Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Yes, two chapters in one week! This one is closely tied to the previous, so I posted it quickly. Unfortunately, this means it hasn't been beta-ed, so forgive me my mistakes. Enjoy!

Some things weren't meant to be dealt with until a first cup of coffee and answering the phone was one of them. Ignoring proper etiquette, his cell chimed relentlessly, battering the peace like a hammer.

 

_Damn it._

 

Brian rolled to his back, wincing as muscles groaned in protest. Getting older definitely sucked. He used to be able to dance and fuck all night without suffering a single cramp, but his body was no longer forgiving. Fortunately, Justin had woken him up during the night from where he had fallen asleep on the floor by the patio doors and dragged him upstairs to bed. He had also forced Brian to gulp down another bottle of water and some aspirin. As a result, his head was far clearer than it should have been, given how much he had drunk.

 

_Thank you, Sunshine._ Speaking of which . . . .

 

He looked over at his lover lying sprawled on his stomach, sheets tangled around his hips. Apparently, neither the phone nor the birds chirping outside were enough to wake Justin. He must have opened the window when they came upstairs, and a pleasant breeze teased the tousled blond hair. His lips were slightly open and terribly inviting. Brian moved closer, admiring the curve of spine disappearing beneath the sheets.

 

Then he saw the bruises.

 

He froze, taking in the faint splotches of purple on Justin's upper arm and on his wrist. Alarmed, Brian sat up and began surveying every visible inch of skin. He found several more bruises on Justin's other wrist and arm, as well as his hips.

 

_Fuck._ And not the good kind.

 

He and Justin often enjoyed rough sex, and bruises were common, but not this many. As memories began to play through his mind, Brian raked his hand through his hair. He had been _very_ aggressive last night. Almost brutal. In addition, he hadn't used lube either, which was something he had never done before. Quite simply, he had lost control, and Brian Kinney _always_ maintained control when it came to sex.

 

Why had Justin provoked him? He remembered how Justin had deliberately placed himself between the door and Brian . . . making Brian look at him . . . poking at the sore spot in Brian's soul . . . forcing him to face things he preferred to avoid. He had _wanted_ Brian to react, but why?

 

_Because the twat always knows what I need._

 

The sex had been a catalyst, one Justin had instigated. It had worked. Brian still remembered the sheer relief after the mind-numbing orgasm, the release of years of pain and grief.

 

And now? He felt lighter, not only less heavy, but less _dark_. Calmer than he had been in days. Thanks to his partner.

 

Pulling gently at the sheet, he uncovered the rest of Justin's body, mentally cataloging each bruise and abrasion while berating himself. How badly had he hurt him? Remembering the lack of lube, he winced and slowly parted Justin's buttocks.

 

Justin jerked, coming awake with an unintelligible mumble. Prying his eyes open, he peered over his shoulder at Brian.

 

"What're you doin'?"

 

"Trying to decide whether to kill you for letting me do this to you or kill myself for doing it."

 

"I'm fine, Brian."

 

"Uh huh. Hold still." He exposed Justin's anus and examined it with a frown. "Shit, Justin. You should never have let me do this."

 

"It's fine. Really."

 

"Stay there."

 

Brian disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a tube of antibiotic cream. It wouldn't be the first time he had treated Justin after playing rough, but this was definitely the worst.

 

"Brian, I swear it's okay. It's hardly the first time we've . . . ."

 

"Shh. Relax."

 

Liberally covering his finger with the cream, Brian gently spread it across the swollen tissue, eliciting a sharp hiss. Justin buried his face in the pillow, tensing for a moment at the unexpected pain.

 

"You're not okay."

 

Justin forced himself to relax. "I'll heal, Brian. Like I was saying, we've done this before. And liked it."

 

"This was too much. You should have stopped me."

 

"You needed to get it out, Brian. I knew you wouldn't really hurt me."

 

Brian sighed. "Just hold still and let me spread this around."

 

Moving slowly, he continued to squirt more cream on his finger, inserting it into Justin, reaching further with each application. He could tell Justin was pretty swollen, but he didn't detect any tears, thankfully.

 

After a few minutes of massaging the medicine into the Justin's ass, he noticed his lover beginning to squirm. Smirking, he hooked his finger, brushing it over the exact area he knew would garner a reaction. His reward was a soft moan, accompanied by Justin's increasingly frantic frotting against the sheets. Withdrawing, Brian took Justin's hips and turned him on his side. After applying more antibiotic to his finger, he continued the rectal massage while positioning himself face first in front of Justin's cock.

 

"Brian, you don't need to . . . _ah_!"

 

In one smooth motion, Brian took Justin in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head while drawing in the shaft. He began a steady rhythm, alternating sucks with finger thrusts. As predicted, it drove Justin into a frenzy.

 

"Fuck, Brian! Don't stop . . . ."

 

Oh no, he wasn't stopping. The taste of Justin on his tongue was both familiar and terribly arousing. The salty flavor was an instant trigger to Brian's libido. He pressed his own erection against the bed, seeking relief.

 

_Nope, no stopping_.

 

Fingers twined into his hair, nails scraping his scalp. He hummed, circling his fingertip over and over the prostrate while pumping his own hips in time with Justin. It wasn't going to take long for either of them.

 

Justin came first, overwhelmed by the dual pleasure. Brian followed, swallowing the last bit of semen while spilling into the sheets. _Fucking perfect_.

 

He was still trying to catch his breath when Justin pulled him up for a kiss.

 

"If you do that every time you're out of control, you can be rough as often as you want."

 

"It's not a joke, Justin. Don't let me do that to you again."

 

"It was hot, seeing you like that. I love when you mark me." Justin touched the bruise on his wrist, smiling to himself.

 

"I don't care. Promise me you'll stop me next time."

 

"Don't need to. You won't hurt me, Brian."

 

Brian fisted Justin's hair, narrowing his eyes. "Promise. Me."

 

"Yes, sir. I promise." Justin eyes twinkled, but Brian decided to let it go. The twat had only become more stubborn with age.

 

"Brian." Serious now, Justin ran the back of his fingers over Brian's cheek. "Are you okay?"

 

So much unsaid, but Brian understood.

 

"Yes." He touched his forehead to his husband's. "Thank you."

 

###

 

The phone call, as it turned out, was from Michael. He left a message letting them know that Gus was welcome to stay as long as they needed some time alone. Brian called and said he'd be over to pick up Gus after lunch. Then he joined Justin in the shower to wash away the lingering scent of sex.

 

"I'll go with you," said Justin. He was lathering Brian's back, although it was more of a massage than a cleansing.

 

"No. I need to talk to him about why I never introduced him to my family. He deserves to know."

 

"Will you take him to spend some time with Claire?" He bit his lip to keep from smiling as Brian rounded on him with a glare.

 

"Hell, no. I'm not letting her anywhere near him."

 

"Just checking." Justin stilled his roaming hands to give Brian a closer look. "Are you sure you're ready for this? I know how hard it is for you to talk about them."

 

"Doesn't matter. It needs to be done. Hopefully, I can answer all his questions now, and then we never need to talk about this again."

 

"I'll be here for you, if you need me."

 

Brian kissed his forehead. "I know."

 

It wasn't until he had picked up Gus, thanked Michael, and driven halfway home that Brian realized how much he _didn't_ want to do this. Jack and Joan were shadows of his past, and he preferred to leave them there. Sooner or later, however, Gus would want to know, if he didn't already. Hell, Brian could almost feel the questions boiling under Gus's skin as his son sat next to him staring out the window. They hadn't spoken since leaving Michael's house.

 

When they were ten minutes from the house, Brian pulled into a community park. Rolling down all the windows, he leaned back and rested his arm across the back of Gus's seat. He could feel Gus's eyes on him, worried and curious. He'd rather hoped the serenity of the park would drown out the unpleasantness of the coming conversation, but the happy sounds of kids laughing felt terribly out of place compared to the ominous silence in the car.

 

"First, I want to say I'm sorry I haven't been home for the past few days. I hope I didn't worry you."

 

"Did Justin piss you off?" The words came out rushed, indignant. Gus looked half-angry and half-fearful.

 

"What?" Startled, Brian dropped his arm and started digging in his pocket for a cigarette before remembering he didn't smoke anymore. Of all the times he'd needed a cigarette . . . . "Why do you think that?"

 

"Well, he seemed so worried, like maybe he was guilty of upsetting you or something."

 

"No. It wasn't because of anything Justin did. I needed some space, some time alone. Justin was worried, because he knows how volatile I can be when left alone."

 

"Then he shouldn't have left you alone!"

 

"He didn't. He called Michael and asked him to check on me. Michael's known me forever, and no one knows more about my parents than him."

 

Gus rubbed the back of his neck where a knot of tension was forming. "Are you ever going to tell me about them? You always said you would when I was older."

 

"I brought you here because I wanted you to understand why I've been distant the last few days. I don't want you to think it has anything to do with you, and it doesn't have anything to do with Justin either. It's hard for me to talk about my family. I've spent years keeping them out of my life. And yours."

 

"Okay."

 

Brian took a deep breath, willing himself to relax. Justin was better at this kind of stuff than he was, but this story wasn't his to tell. For years, he had protected Gus from his family's poison, sheltered him from his hateful aunt, troublesome cousins, and condescending grandmother. He hoped that after today, they would never have to discuss the Kinney's again, but Gus deserved to know.

 

_Just say it and get it over with._

 

###

 

Gus waited, but Brian said nothing for a while. The silence seemed loud in spite of the shouts from kids on the playground. An old man sat on the bench by the fabricated pond, tossing pieces of bread to the ducks. Gus watched his father stare out the windshield, although it was clear he wasn't looking at anything. Except his memories.

 

"My dad's name was Jack. When he found out Joan was pregnant with me, he told her he didn't want any more kids and she was to get an abortion. She didn't, and he resented me the rest of his life."

 

"Jack was one of those men who spent his days believing he missed something great. He would come home drunk, regaling us with stories of all the things he could have been doing if he weren't saddled with two whiny kids and a frigid wife. Joan would grab her own bottle of booze and head to the bedroom to get away from him. I wish I could have done the same."

 

"He left Claire alone most of the time. He always held women as delicate, needing a man's protection. But me? I was the reason he was tied down, the extra kid he hadn't wanted. I was his miserable life personified. I didn't get to run to my room. If I did, he followed me."

 

Gus sat rooted to his seat. Suddenly, he wished they weren't having this conversation.

 

"He liked his belt the best. It was always handy and left these nice little welts as proof that I was being raised like a man. That's what he called it, you see. Learning to take it like a man. No son of Jack's was going to be a weak little Momma's boy, a fucking fairy. He said it would make me strong, teach me that no pain is worth crying over. Sometimes, he used his fist too."

 

Gus closed his eyes, as if that would erase the terrible images blinding his view. It didn't work.

 

"Joan didn't try to stop him. Maybe she thought I needed it too? I don't really know. Honestly, I think she was just too busy getting drunk in her room so she didn't have to think about him."

 

"Fortunately, I grew fast. By the time I was thirteen, I was just as tall as Jack. One night, I grabbed the belt and threatened to hit _him_. He left me alone after that. Physically, anyway. I never heard the end of how useless I was, just another drain on his hard-earned salary. Another person holding him back from the life he deserved. Funny thing was, he never said what we were holding him back from. I doubt he even knew."

 

Two small children ran past the car, their squeals of happiness like nails scraping down a chalkboard. His dad finally turned to look at him, blinking slowly as if he were climbing out of a dream.

 

"He died several months after you were born. When he told me he was dying from cancer, I told him I was gay. I never told my parents before, you see." Brian swallowed, his eyes shifting unfocused to the side. "His response was that I should be dying instead of him."

 

Gus's eyes stung. He had been raised by three parents, all of whom never failed to surround him with love. Even his father, who rarely spoke of his feelings in words, showed his devotion in every action and hug. He had never needed to question whether they loved him.

 

"My mother found out I was gay after he died. She dealt with it quite differently, deriving comfort from her Bible and her bottles. When she discovered I had cancer, she thought it was God's way of getting my attention . . . my punishment for living in sin. I threw her out of my life."

 

Brian's fists were clenched on his lap, and Gus reached over to take one in his hand, smoothing the whitened knuckles with his fingers. He couldn't imagine, didn't _want_ to imagine such grandparents as the ones his dad was describing. It explained a lot, though. He recalled a conversation many years ago with Mom after Brian had returned to Pittsburgh from one of his visits.

 

"Mommy, why doesn't Daddy ever say 'I love you' when I say it to him?"

 

He still remembered the way his mother's eyes had softened, the way she had tucked her blonde hair behind her ears and pulled him into her lap.

 

"Daddy didn't learn to love the way most people do. It took him a long time to recognize what love is and how to show it. He doesn't use words to say 'I love you.' It's what he does: how he hugs you, the things he buys for you when you tell him what you like, the times he comes to see you in school plays and music programs. He loves you honey, and he always will. Never doubt it."

 

Now, all this time later, he thought he understood. It was hard to warm up in a place that was always so cold.

 

"You don't have to say anymore, Dad. I understand." He hated how empty his father looked. Squeezing his hand, Gus leaned his head on Brian's shoulder, something he hadn't done since his preteen years. "And I'm sorry."

 

Brian returned the squeeze. "Nothing to be sorry for. I just wanted you to understand why I never introduced you to your grandmother."

 

"I wish you had." When Brian looked down at him in surprise, Gus grinned. "So I could tell her that you're a great dad. In spite of her."

 

His dad's sudden guffaw was exactly what he needed to hear, and just like that, the cloud lifted. The lines in Brian's face eased, and he wrapped his arm around Gus's shoulders.

 

"Now _that_ would have been something to see."

 

###

 

They stopped on the way home to pick up some Thai for dinner. Justin was sitting on the patio when they arrived home, but he came inside when he saw them enter the kitchen.

 

"Hey, Gus. Welcome home."

 

His eyes flicked from father to son, assessing. He looked worn and uneasy. Gus felt sorry for him; the past two days had been hard on him too.

 

"Hey, Justin." Gus offered a shy smile.

 

Justin hesitated, wide-eyed at the friendly greeting, then burst into a blinding smile. His relief made Gus feel guilty at how hard he had been on Justin since arriving in Pittsburgh.

 

He sat at the dining table while the two men gathered plates, silverware, and glasses. Watching them, Gus noticed a deep bruise on Justin's arm. When Justin turned to open the fridge, he saw a similar mark on Justin's wrist.

 

The story of Jack Kinney and his belt was all too fresh in Gus's mind. He knew abuse tended to pass from parents to kids. Was it possible his father would . . .?

 

His father approached Justin, carrying a glass. When Justin retrieved a jug of lemonade and started to pour it in the glass, Brian reached out with his other hand, lightly touching the bruise. Gus froze, watching as his father stroked Justin's wrist tenderly with one finger, a small smile on his face. Justin paused, raising his eyes to Brian's, and smiled back. Something sparked between them, fleeting but intense.

 

_Oh_.

 

Gus flushed, glad they weren't looking at him. How stupid of him! His dad had never hit anyone, as far as he knew. How could Gus have thought he would hurt Justin? The bruises were clearly from something else, and he didn't want to know more than that. Frantically, he shoved the encroaching offensive images from his mind.

 

Bearing glasses of lemonade, the two men joined Gus at the table for dinner. They talked about Gus's night at Michael and Ben's house, about JR, and about how Debbie had crashed the movie by storming in after dinner armed with six bags of chips and popcorn. The funeral was never mentioned, and Gus was fine with that. He had learned as much as he wanted to about his paternal grandparents.

 

Later, after eating and changing to trunks for an evening swim, he headed out to the patio and plopped in a lounge chair by the pool with his iPod. His dad and Justin were still in the kitchen cleaning up. Their voices drifted out the window, and he paused before inserting his earbuds.

 

"Everything go okay?"

 

"I think so. He didn't really say much."

 

"Sounds like someone else I know."

 

"Not all of us are as openly emotional as you, Sunshine."

 

Gus risked a glance back at the kitchen window, where he saw Justin playfully punch Brian in the arm. Smirking, Brian whispered something in Justin's ear, earning him a grin followed by a lewd, open-mouthed kiss. Gus quickly turned away, plugging his ears and pulling up his playlists.

 

He had always hoped his father would find the same kind of love his moms had. In all his years of growing up, his dad had always been alone. Gus had never seen him with another man, although Mom had pictures of Brian with Justin from before he went to New York. If Justin made his father this happy, then maybe Gus would give him a second chance.

 

As long as they kept their pants on when he was around.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for your kudos and comments! I love reading what you think. Zevgirl has done another great job of editing and making this ready for you :)

Gus stared glumly at the paper in his hand, but no matter how long he looked at it, the numbers didn't change.

 

"It's not _that_ bad," chuckled Ashley, seeing his face from across the room where she was stocking comics in their racks. "Considering how easy this job is, it's a pretty decent paycheck."

 

Gus sighed, stuffing the pay stub in his jeans pocket. "I know, but it's just so . . . ."

 

"Underwhelming?"

 

"Yeah."

 

Ashley shook her head, turning back to the books. "That's why I'm going to college. No way do I want to spend my life working for pennies. But for right now, this is a pretty cool deal."

 

Gus watched her bend over and retrieve more comics from the box at her feet. _Nice ass_. Actually, she was more than a nice ass. Over the past three weeks, he had gotten to know her better, and he liked what he saw in her. She was tough, independent, and confident. The girls at his school were always so shy, huddling in groups and giggling at the boys behind long curtains of hair and painted fingernails. Ashley would never have fit in with them, and he approved of that.

 

The bell over the door rang, and Gus watched as Keith sauntered through, a backpack slung over his shoulder. Ashley gave him a sour glance and continued working. Undaunted, Keith headed to the front counter, flashing Gus a friendly grin.

 

"Hey, man. How's it going?"

 

"Good. You?"

 

"Oh, it's all cool, man. It's cool." Keith set his pack on the counter and leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Hey, just wanted to check in and see if you need anything _special_ , if you get my meaning."

 

Keith had stopped by a few times since Gus had started working at the comic store. After some tentative conversations, Gus had admitted how much he missed his buddies in Toronto and the times spent getting high and partying on weekends. Keith had offered to help him out, but so far Gus had declined. Right now though? After seeing his paltry paycheck, he needed to relax and have some fun or this entire summer was going to be an unbearable bust.

 

"You know, I could use a little something. This week's been boring as hell."

 

Keith nodded and reached into his bag. "Tell you what. First time's on me. You like what I give you, you can pay me for the next batch." Looking around first, he scooted two small plastic bags across the counter. Gus palmed them, sliding both into his own backpack under the counter. "No kidding, man, those are prime. You won't find any better in the Pitts."

 

Gus grinned. "Thanks, Keith. I definitely owe you."

 

"No problem. And if you're looking for more cash?" He glanced back at Ashley, but she had her back to them. "Just let me know. Rod used to help me out by selling when Mr. Novotny wasn't around. This store had some regular customers, and it was cool. Easy money, man. Novotny never knew a thing. You help me out, and I'll make sure you get some _real_ cash. Not some minimum wage paycheck."

 

Gus hesitated. "I'll let you know, okay? Gotta think about it."

 

"Sure. No rush. Enjoy the goods, okay?"

 

Keith winked and exited the store, slapping Ashley on the ass on his way out. She glared after him.

 

"Asshole. I have no idea why you bother talking to him."

 

"He's not that bad." Gus walked over and whispered in her ear. "He gave me free stuff!"

 

She rolled her eyes. "That's great, but next time, he'll want his pay."

 

Gus bent over and picked up a stack of comics. They worked together in silence for a few minutes before Gus finally cleared his throat.

 

"So, uh. Want to do something with me Saturday?" He avoided her gaze, continuing to sort the racks.

 

"You asking me out on a date?"

 

He shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever you want to call it. Just thought maybe we could get some dinner and hang out. Wherever."

 

He chanced a glance in her direction. She was smiling so wide, he could see the small gap between her front teeth. It was unfairly adorable.

 

"Sounds great. And here I thought you would _never_ speak up."

 

Patting him on the cheek, she grabbed the now empty box and headed for the storage room. Gus watched her go, blushing hard but feeling triumphant. This weekend was going to be _awesome_.

 

###

 

Daphne stepped out of the dressing room of Banana Republic and pirouetted in front of Justin before striking a pose.

 

"So? What do you think?"

 

She looked stunning in a black, spaghetti strap dress that flared out above her knees. Justin often thought that if he'd been straight, he would definitely have been all over Daphne.

 

"Elegant. Perfect for the new doctor looking for love."

 

Her mouth dropped in a scowl. "I'm not looking for love. I'm _running_ from it."

 

"Okay, so Rob was a bad egg. That doesn't mean you won't find another great guy, Daph."

 

"I don't care if I do," she sniffed. "Maybe I'm better off single."

 

"No, you're not. You're gonna find the perfect guy and live happily after."

 

"Like you and Brian?"

 

Justin sighed. "I hope not. It took a lot of agony to get where we are. I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

 

"He loves you deeply, Justin. You're a lucky guy."

 

"I _know_ that. But it wasn't always this easy."

 

She disappeared back into the dressing room, and Justin wandered the store while he waited. Daphne had recently broken up with her boyfriend, leaving her without a date for her end-of-residency party at the hospital. Finally, after years of study and long hours of practicing medicine as a medical student and then a resident, she was a full-fledged doctor starting a career at Children's Hospital of Pittsburgh. Justin had agreed to accompany her to the event.

 

After stopping at the desk to purchase the dress, they headed out into the mall, pausing to get a coffee at Starbucks. A circle of iron-wrought tables and chairs surrounded the front of the shop, and they sat to sip their drinks while watching the people flow by like flotsam in a current.

 

"So, how are things with Gus?"

 

"Better." Justin winced as the coffee burned his tongue. "He's saying a lot more than 'fuck off' now. We actually have real conversations, and he eats with us."

 

"That's great! I always thought you'd make an awesome dad."

 

"I'll settle for friend. It's too late for him to think of me as a father."

 

"It's never too late. He really loved you when he was little, remember? What was it he called you again?"

 

Justin suppressed a grin. "Jussy."

 

"It was so cute! He'd come running as soon as he saw you."

 

"Well, he's almost an adult now. I can't woo him with crayons anymore."

 

"You don't need to. Just be yourself."

 

"You should drop by and meet him. He said he kind of remembers you."

 

"I'll do that! It'll be fun." She raised her cup to take a sip and froze, smile disappearing. Her eyes widened, riveted somewhere to Justin's left.

 

"You know, are you ready? Why don't we head out?" She stood up so fast, she knocked over her bag sitting by her feet.

 

"Daph? What's wrong?"

 

She reached down, snatching the bag while slinging her purse over her shoulder. "Nothing. I just think it's getting late, don't you?" She glanced off to the side again, a definite look of panic crossing her face.

 

Frowning, Justin turned just as a harsh voice spoke just behind him.

 

"Taylor?"

 

Time seemed to slow, the faces around him blurring as Justin stared up at the man who still dominated his nightmares. The sounds of the crowd quieted, unable to repress the crack of the baseball bat Justin still heard in his memory.

 

"Hobbs."

 

He released the cup of coffee to rub his suddenly sweaty hands on his pants. He could only hope he didn't look how he felt: trapped in a cage of skin and bone while his soul struggled to flee.

 

Hobbs lifted his chin, staring down his nose at Justin. "I thought it was you. Came crawling back to Pittsburgh, huh? New York didn't want you?"

 

_Breathe. Just breathe._

 

" _I_ didn't want New York. I had better places to be."

 

"Like _here_?" Hobbs scoffed. "What's the matter? You miss your elderly fag lover? Isn't he in an old people's home yet?"

 

Justin stood, clumsily tipping his chair over. It fell with a clang that rattled his already frayed nerves. He clenched his fists as he faced his high school nemesis.

 

"That _elderly lover_ happens to own the top advertising firm in the Midwest. You're nothing but an ant to him, Hobbs. And even less to me."

 

The other man stepped close, his cruel sneer only inches from Justin's face.

 

"If you think I've forgotten what you did with that gun in _my_ face, Taylor, you're sorely mistaken. I haven't forgotten a thing, and I don't forgive either. You better watch your step in Pittsburgh, little cocksucker, because if you want to play with guns, you're asking for trouble."

He looked over at Daphne and smirked. "Still hanging with faggots, Daphne? Why don't you find a _real_ man?"

 

Snickering, Hobbs turned and melted into the crowd without a backward glance. Suddenly lightheaded, Justin gripped the edge of the table, closing his eyes as he released a sigh of relief.

 

"Justin, you all right?" Daphne gripped his arm, peering into his face. "Fuck, you've gone pale as a ghost. Let's get out of here, okay?"

 

Wobbling slightly, Justin grabbed her hand and let her lead them toward the exit. His coffee remained behind, forgotten.

 

###

 

Gus had no idea what exactly led him to explore Justin's studio. Probably because it was the only room in the house he hadn't yet seen. Justin kept the door closed most of the time, even when he wasn't at home.

 

He loved the room. Situated at the corner of the first floor, it was lit by two large windows, one of which faced the pool and patio, while the other faced a small garden on the side of the property. A large work table sat in front of the largest window, flanked by two cubby hole bookcases. A plethora of art supplies filled the shelves. On the back wall by the door, several large canvases lay propped against the wall.

 

Gus wandered over to the desk, his attention caught by multiple unfinished panels for Justin's comic strip, _Maddie_. He had always been a fan of _Maddie_ , relishing its similarity to his own family, although he was a boy with two moms instead of a girl with two dads. When his mom had discovered that he followed the strip, she had told him that Justin was the creator.

 

Intrigued, he saw the comic in a new light, wondering if the story was Justin's fantasy of having a family. The thought angered him. Why couldn't Gus and his dad be Justin's family? They could have been if he had not run to New York!

 

Glancing over the drawings, he was surprised to find that Justin was introducing a new character: a boy named Sean, who was being adopted by Maddie's dads. Maddie had been the result of a friend who acted as surrogate. Sean was adopted from an agency. Another dimension to the ever-changing picture of same-sex parents.

 

Continuing to look around, he opened the door of a closet in the corner. It was full of various drawing pads, as well as something in the back covered by a sheet. Curious, he pulled the cloth aside to find three square canvases, no larger than two feet. They were unframed, and unlike the other canvases in the room, the backs had no title written on them. He pulled them out of the closet and lined them up side by side against the wall, kneeling down to scrutinize each one.

They were very different from Justin's other paintings. Gus was no art critic but even he could discern the darkness in these pictures. Despair and anguish lurked within the bold streaks of black and red. One was of a white scarf, soaked in blood, lying in a dark corner. The second depicted a dark tunnel, the silhouette of a person running down the middle, oblivious to the shadow on the curved wall. The shadow stretched menacingly toward the figure, the shape of a baseball bat clutched in an enormous fist.

 

The last one was painted in the same shades of black and grey as the others. In the center, two men danced together, their features blurred in shadow. At the periphery of the picture, a crowd watched, giving the men a wide space to move. A disco ball hung at the top, scattering circles of light around the dancers. The remarkable thing about the painting was the way it was drawn as if the viewer was seeing the scene through a window, its glass streaked with tears of crimson. Blood.

 

Faintly, he heard the sound of a car outside and hastily gathered the three pictures, stuffing them once more in the back of the closet. With a last glance around, he closed the studio door and headed downstairs.

 

The front door opened, and Justin walked in, followed by a petite, pretty girl with a cloud of black curls. Gus knew immediately that something was wrong. Justin was very pale, his eyes vacant. He barely looked at Gus before heading to the stairs.

 

"Gonna get a shower."

 

The woman watched him ascend, looking frustrated and helpless.

 

" _Fuck,_ " she whispered, hands clenched at her side. Her eyes flicked to Gus, widening as she took him in.

 

"Gus?" When he nodded, she beamed. "Wow, it _is_ you! You look so much like your dad. I know you don't remember me, but I used to help Justin babysit you when you were little."

 

"Yeah, that's what he said. You must be Daphne."

 

"Yep! It is so good to see you after so long." Her face fell as her attention switched back to where Justin had disappeared. "I'm sorry it's not at a better time."

 

"What’s wrong with him?"

 

"We ran into that asshole, Chris Hobbs, at the mall. I think Justin's kind of shell shocked. He's barely spoken since we left."

 

"Who's Chris Hobbs?" She talked so fast it made his head spin.

 

Her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh my God! You don't know the story? About Justin getting bashed?"

 

_What the hell?_ "Justin was bashed? When?"

 

She swore. "Maybe I shouldn't have said anything, but I'm so worried about Justin. Is your father around?"

 

"No, he's at work." He could hear the sound of the shower being turned on upstairs.

 

She rubbed her forehead, thinking. "I don't want to bother him, but I don't think Justin is okay. Do you have his phone number?"

 

"Sure." He led her to the kitchen where his cell was lying on the counter. After giving her the number, he followed her to the sofa, where they both sat while she dialed her phone. Gus glanced at the ceiling, listening to the shower.

 

"I'm sure he's fine. Just getting a shower."

 

"Trust me, he's not." She shifted the phone closer to her mouth. "Brian? It's Daphne. You got a minute?"

 

###

 

Brian had just returned to his office from a meeting in the boardroom when his cell vibrated in his jacket pocket. He dropped into his plush leather chair as he answered.

 

"Kinney."

 

"Brian? It's Daphne. You got a minute?"

 

A slow smile crossed Brian's face. "Sure. What kind of trouble are you and Justin making this time?"

 

She giggled. "We never make trouble!"

 

"Are you kidding me? Whenever you two get together, Justin brings home a head full of romantic shit he wants to try. I get dragged out to some new cafe where we can design our own mugs or to museum full of weird metal sculptures."

 

"Those didn't come from me! Totally Justin's ideas, I swear." Her voice turned somber. "Brian, something happened while we were at the mall today. I'm worried about Justin."

 

"What happened?"

 

"We ran into Chris Hobbs."

 

_Fuck_. Brian stood up and retrieved his briefcase from behind his chair. He began stuffing the papers on his desk inside while holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder.

 

"What do you mean you ran into him?"

 

"Well, we were drinking coffee and he saw us. I was hoping he would just walk by, but he walked over and started talking to Justin. Giving him shit about moving back to Pittsburgh."

 

Brian snapped the briefcase shut. "I'm heading to my car now, Daphne. Where are you and Justin?"

 

"At your house."

 

"I'll call you back when I'm on the road, okay?"

 

He placed the cell in his pocket and headed for Cynthia's office. Her door was open, so he poked his head in.

 

"I'm out of here for the day. Can you handle anything that comes up?"

 

She looked up from her computer. "Everything okay?"

 

"Don't know yet. I'll call."

 

When he was on the freeway, he dialed Daphne back.

 

"It's me. Where is Justin now?"

 

"He's upstairs getting a shower. At least that's what he said he was doing, and we can hear the water running."

 

"We?"

 

"Me and Gus. He's here too."

 

"Okay. Tell me what Hobbs said to Justin."

 

She told him about the confrontation. "Brian, what was he talking about? About Justin using a gun?"

 

Brian increased the car's speed, wishing he had a cigarette. He could hear the echo of Justin's voice, telling him about Cody, the gun, and Chris Hobbs.

 

"I'll tell you later. Just keep an eye on him until I get there."

 

She let an exasperated sigh. "I can't just go in the bathroom while he's taking a shower!"

 

"Why not? You're a doctor for Christ's sake! Nothing you haven't seen before. You guys even fucked once, remember?"

 

"Brian!" He could just see her mouth drop open. Daphne was _so_ emotional. "He's my best friend! I can't invade his privacy."

 

"Then just _listen_ for him, okay? I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

 

Unfortunately, a car collision slowed him down just as he neared his exit. Frustrated, he slammed his fist on the steering wheel. _Damn it!_ He needed a cigarette. He needed this traffic jam to clear out. He needed to be home _now_.

 

By the time he screeched into the driveway, it had been thirty minutes since he hung up with Daphne. He entered through the garage, tossed his briefcase and jacket in the kitchen, and came upon Daphne and Gus still sitting on the sofa.

 

"Where is he?"

 

"Still upstairs." Daphne gave him a worried look. "The water's still running. He's been in there a long time."

 

"Fuck."

 

He gave Gus a quick squeeze on the shoulder before taking the stairs, two at a time. Flinging the bedroom door open, he glanced around and saw a pile of Justin's clothes on the floor by the bathroom. The bathroom door was wide open. Moving slowly, anxiety stirring in his gut, he entered.

 

The shower was surrounded by glass, very similar to his old shower in the loft. A milieu of water droplets clouded his view, but he could make out Justin huddled on the floor in the back corner, knees drawn up to his chest. Without hesitation, Brian flung the glass door open.

 

"Justin?"

 

The curled body didn't move. Justin's face was hidden, his head resting on his knees. The water was cold. Not lukewarm. Cold.

 

" _Justin."_

Alarmed, he entered the shower, clothes and all, and knelt by Justin, wrapping his arms around him. He managed to coax Justin to his feet, and got him to step out of the water. Grabbing a towel hanging on the wall, he flung it across Justin's shoulders, pulling the other man against his chest and into his arms. He could feel Justin shivering, his entire body convulsing.

 

Cupping one hand around the base of Justin's head, he pulled him closer, lowering his lips to the dripping hair.

 

"Justin. Talk to me. What's going on?"

 

When Justin didn't answer, Brian gently pulled him into the bedroom and proceeded to dry him off. Usually, drying each other off was a routine of seduction, but not tonight. Once Justin was relatively dry, he laid him in bed and shed his wet clothes before climbing in next to him. Justin was still trembling, so he wrapped himself around the slighter body, trying to warm the cold skin next to his.

 

He closed his eyes, but blood and rage flowed through his thoughts, so he opened them. Justin burrowed closer, and that was encouraging. He could feel Justin's breath tickling his nipple, and he curled around his lover, slowly running his palms over Justin's back and arms. The goosebumps disappeared; the tremors slowed. Touch had always been their main line of communication, sensuality their expression of love. Justin began to respond, tentatively brushing his nose across Brian's throat.

 

"Don't want to talk yet, huh?"

 

Justin didn't answer, but it wasn't necessary. Brian could feel Justin's anxiety in the grip of his fingers, a disquiet that would paint bruises on Brian's skin later. He welcomed the grasp, rolling Justin to his back while initiating a slow kiss, a warm caress to chilled lips. When they were no longer quite so blue, he dropped his mouth down to Justin's neck, licking rigid tendons and lapping at the rapid pulse. His partner released a long sigh, dropping his head back.

 

_That's it. Come back to me._

 

Encouraged, he moved lower, then lower, tracing abstract patterns with tongue and fingers. How long had it been since he had last worshipped every inch of Justin's body like this? _Too long_. He took his time, lingering over sensitive spots, enjoying the feel of Justin's skin. When he felt Justin's cock rise, he smiled and pulled it into his mouth.

 

His lover twitched, reaching down to yank at Brian's hair, silently begging him to come back up. Understanding, Brian rose, covering Justin once more with his body. As Justin wrapped his arms and legs around him, Brian licked one hand and took their cocks, stroking them. As Justin craned his neck to kiss him, he rolled them to the side, chest to chest.

 

The kisses deepened, melding them together while they thrust into Brian's fist. There would certainly be bruises tomorrow, but the thought only made the sex hotter. He moved his fist faster, catching Justin's moans with his lips. The fact that Justin was responding was a good sign, and Brian was determined to blow any memory of Hobbs right out of thought. As Justin's fingernails raked his shoulders, he nipped at the nearby earlobe and whispered.

 

"That's it. Come for me."

 

Justin went taut, and warmth spilled over Brian's hand, bringing him to orgasm also. He thought he heard Justin say his name, but it was lost to the roar in his ears as everything whited out. Their bodies collapsed together, sated and limp. Justin curled into him, uncaring of the stickiness, but he had never been one to run to the bathroom immediately after. Brian was the fastidious one, but he held Justin until his breaths grew quiet before slipping out of his arms to clean up.

 

He hadn't forgotten about Daphne and with Justin asleep, he dressed and went downstairs. He found Daphne in the kitchen with Gus, drinking a soda and chatting. As soon as she saw him, however, she halted mid-sentence to interrogate him.

 

"Well? You were up there forever. He okay?"

 

He glanced at Gus. "Sonny boy, would you excuse us for a minute?"

 

Gus made a face, but slipped off the bar stool and headed outside to the patio, dropping into a lounge chair near the door where he could still hear them. Rolling his eyes, Brian took Daphne's arm and guided her into his office, closing the door.

 

"Well? Brian, I've been worried about him for hours."

 

"I know. I apologize for the delay, but he was in panic mode. I was trying to calm him down." Brian sighed. "I don't suppose you have a cigarette handy?"

 

"I quit smoking before you guys did. Doesn't exactly look good for a doctor to smoke."

 

"Thank you for getting him home. He's sleeping now. I think he's better, but I'll check on him when he wakes up."

 

Daphne nodded, staring down at her feet. "I think you should also know that Gus wants to know who Chris Hobbs is. I take it he's never heard the story?"

 

Brian plopped down into a chair, wiping his hand over his face. "Probably not. As you can guess, it's not something I enjoy talking about. I don't know if Mel and Linz ever said anything."

 

"They didn't. He didn't know about Justin being bashed." She sat beside him, distressed. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said anything in front of him, but I was so worried about Justin. He wanted me to tell him what's going on, but I didn't say anything else. I figure that's something you and Justin should do."

 

"No. I won't put Justin through that. I'll talk to Gus myself."

 

She put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "If there's anything I can do . . . _anything_ . . . call me, okay? I'll help in any way I can. And I expect you to keep me updated."

 

He smiled and placed his hand over hers. At one time, he would have scoffed at the offer of help. How things had changed.

 

"Thanks, Daphne. You're a good fag hag."

 

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm the _best_ fag hag, and you know it."

 

"Except for Debbie." He couldn't resist the dig.

 

"She's not a fag hag. She's a gay man wearing the skin of a woman."

 

The laughter lightened the tension, leaving Brian grateful that Justin had such a good friend. The world seemed less bleak with such people in it.

 

###

 

After Daphne left, Brian found Gus in the main room between the kitchen and the stairs. He was watching television, but hit the mute button on the remote when Brian entered.

 

"You going to tell me what's going on?"

 

"Just a second."

 

Brian went to the kitchen cupboard containing the alcohol, and retrieved a bottle of scotch. Grabbing a glass, he went back to where Gus was sitting and sat in a chair facing him, pouring himself a shot. He downed it in a practiced gulp before finally meeting Gus's gaze. After all, if he was going to tell this story, he needed ammunition.

 

"I'm sorry you were never told about this, but the truth is that it's a difficult story to tell. What happened . . . it was pretty horrible." Shoving the glass aside, Brian took a swallow straight from the bottle. Gus watched, obviously worried. Brian didn't normally drink much in front of his son. "Are you sure you want to hear it?"

 

"Was Justin bashed?"

 

Brian flinched. Hadn't he developed a thick skin against this long ago? Apparently not.

 

"Yes." He took another pull of scotch, felt the heat burning all the way to his stomach. There had been a time when he had wished for that heat to consume him, obliterate everything. Thankfully, that time had passed. But only because of Justin.

 

"It shouldn't have happened at all. If I had stayed away, it probably wouldn't have."

 

"That's bullshit."

 

They both startled at the quiet voice coming from the stairs. Justin stood there, wearing a bathrobe. There were dark circles under his eyes and he was still pale, but the look he gave Brian was full of fire, and his words never wavered.

 

"It's utter and complete bullshit."

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Washed Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the long delay, but my beta and I are very busy at the end of the school year!

 

Brian clutched the bottle of scotch, knuckles white, as he stared at Justin.

 

"You were asleep."

 

Justin descended the stairs, walking over to where Gus and Brian sat. "I'm awake now. Heard you two talking."

 

Brian took his hand, pulling him down beside him on the sofa. "Are you okay?"

 

"I'm . . . better." Justin turned to Gus. "I'm sorry. I must have looked a mess earlier."

 

"Daphne just left a little while ago. She was worried about you." Brian poured another shot, offering it to Justin, who downed it in one gulp. "She told Gus that you were bashed. He's never heard the story."

 

"Was it some kind of secret?" Gus was watching them both, picking at a hole in his jeans. "I don't understand why I never heard about this."

 

"It's not a secret," said Brian. "It's just that . . . ." He dropped his head in one hand, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

 

Justin cut in smoothly. "It's not an easy thing for either of us to talk about." He took another swallow of the liquor before placing the glass back on the coffee table. "I imagine your moms felt it better to hide something so violent from you."

 

Brian took Justin's hand in his. "You don't have to do this, Justin. I was going to tell him myself."

 

Justin looked at Brian, an understanding passing between them. "We'll both tell him. I know it's just as hard for you."

 

Gus leaned back in his chair, eyes flicking from one to the other. He was starting to feel sorry he had asked. Obviously, this was something very deep and painful for both of them, and he didn't want to hurt his dad. Or Justin. They weren't exactly close yet, but he was starting to like the man he vaguely remembered from his childhood.

 

Justin turned back to Gus, still holding Brian's hand. "I had asked your dad to go to prom with me. It was my last year at St. James Academy, and it had been a bitch because I had come out, and the people at school, both staff and students, didn't handle it well. I figured, what better way to say good-bye than to bring the man I loved as my date?"

 

Brian sighed. "While conveniently forgetting that said man was twenty-nine and far too old for you."

 

A slow grin stretched across Justin's face. "Thirty, you mean."

 

Gus couldn't repress a smile when his father rolled his eyes.

 

"Just move on, would you?" said Brian.

 

"Anyway, your dad said no. Of course. He didn't yet realize he was deeply and irrevocably in love with me."

 

"Justin." The warning glare Brian shot Justin was all too familiar with Gus. He had been on the tail end of it numerous times.

 

"So I took Daphne. She was my best friend and didn't have a date either. We went to dinner and then to the hotel where prom was being held. She looked fabulous."

 

Justin paused, eyes drifting to the window as if he could see something more than the darkness outside. "We were dancing, and Daphne told me she saw Brian. I turned and there he was, wearing a tux with a white scarf, walking toward us. He was gorgeous." Refocusing, he chuckled. "Sorry, Gus. I know nobody wants to think of their parents as sexy."

 

"Not really, no." Gus grimaced.

 

"He took my hand and asked Daphne if he could borrow her date. They started playing this old, slow song, and we danced. I think the whole room was in shock. They kind of backed away, and we had the whole floor while they watched. I wasn't really paying attention though. Too busy staring at your dad."

 

"We did some fancy moves," said Brian. "Not bad at all, really."

 

"Daphne said we were amazing. And at the end, Brian kissed me right in front of everyone." Justin's eyes were shining, pushing away the shadows that earlier marked his face. "It was the best night of my life."

 

Brian said nothing, but he reached out to brush a lock hair from Justin's face. They were quiet for a moment, each remembering the brighter portion of the night.

 

"After the dance, I went to the parking garage with Brian. I was going to walk him to his car, say goodbye, and return to Daphne. It . . . ." He swallowed. "It didn't work out that way."

 

"Justin, you don't have to do this."

 

Justin held up his hand, shaking his head at Brian. He kept his gaze fastened on Gus.

 

"There was this guy in my class, a football player named Chris Hobbs. We didn't know each other well, but something sort of happened between us once. After that, he hated me."

 

Gus wanted to ask what had occurred, but the strain in Justin's voice was enough to keep him silent.

 

"I don't know if he planned what he did or if it was spontaneous. I don't know if our dance provoked him, but I don't believe it did. He already hated me before prom. There had been small fights between us during the year, but nothing serious."

 

"Maybe if I hadn't gone . . . ."

 

Justin rounded on Brian, eyes narrowed. "It wasn't your fault, Brian. I didn't blame you then, and I don't blame you now."

 

"So he hit you? At prom? In front of everyone?" Gus was appalled.

 

"No," Brian replied. "After we walked to my jeep and said good-bye, Justin turned around to walk away. I looked in my rear view mirror and saw someone appear behind him, carrying an aluminum baseball bat."

 

Oh God. Gus saw Justin give Brian's hand a squeeze, but it didn't erase the ashen color of Brian's face.

 

"I jumped out, running. I . . . I yelled." Brian closed his eyes, shaking. "Justin heard me and turned to look, and that's when he swung. And I heard the crack . . . it just echoed through the garage."

 

They were both pale now, and Justin slid an arm around Brian's waist, burying his face into Brian's shoulder.

 

"There was so much blood. I had never seen so much blood," whispered Brian.

 

Gus felt like throwing up. Images slid through his mind of shattered bone marred with crimson. He could see his dad on a hard cement floor, cradling Justin. Had he screamed? Sobbed? He wanted to scrub the picture from his head. He wanted to erase the entire story from his memory.

 

They continued to talk of Justin's coma, of his recovery, of his damaged motor control, and it hurt to listen. Physically hurt. Like glass shredding his skin. If it pained him to listen, he could only imagine how badly it hurt to tell. They held each other through it, as if they would shatter at any moment. He sorely wished he had never asked, but it was far too late.

 

When they were done, Brian looked exhausted, Justin worn.

 

"Do you have any questions?" Brian asked gently.

 

"I'm . . . God, I'm so sorry." Hot tears burned Gus's eyes, and he desperately needed to get out of there before they saw him cry.

 

"It's okay." Justin gave him a sad smile from where he leaned against Brian. "It's time you knew."

 

Gus stood, approaching them with slow steps. He leaned down and kissed his dad's cheek, something he hadn't done in years.

 

"I'm sorry, Dad."

 

The lines around Brian's eyes seemed deeper than ever. "No need. Sorry's bullshit."

 

He pulled Gus down between them, the three sharing a hug and moment of comfort. Gus could feel Justin shaking, and awkwardly wrapped his arm around his father's partner, an offering and an acceptance. Justin returned the embrace, unable to smile but obviously grateful for the contact.

 

After he had gone back to his room, Gus spent a long time on the bed, staring at the ceiling and seeing blood wrought in the shape of hate. He had always been sensitive to gay issues, given his parents, but never had he seen the violence. They had shielded him from that, not always successfully. There had been fights at school, names yelled and punches thrown. Small compared to what Justin had been through.

 

He heard voices outside and went to the window to peek from behind the curtain. He could see Brian standing near the pool, holding Justin from behind, his head bent over the younger man, one hand caressing the back of his neck. Their words were too quiet to be heard, but Gus knew they weren't for him anyway. After a few moments, Justin turned to face Brian, and Gus could see his face by the light from the kitchen. It was radiant, transformed from the wan mask Gus had seen earlier. Brian took his hand, leading Justin back inside, and seconds later, Gus heard the creak of the stairs.

 

He returned to the bed and lay down, resolutely pushing images of sorrow and pain from his mind and replacing them with what he had just seen: the intensity of Justin's expression and the tenderness with which Brian took his hand.

 

As he fell asleep, he thought of canvasses hidden away, of two men dancing and a scarf streaked with red.

 

###

 

Brian watched Justin wander out to the patio while he put the glasses in the dishwasher. Gus had gone to his room, leaving them alone with their memories. Brian had been touched and relieved to see Gus give Justin a hug. It seemed he was giving Justin more of a chance lately.

 

He followed Justin outside, where his lover stood motionlessly by the pool, staring at the lights in the water. The ripples played over Justin's face, shadows and light wavering over pale skin. Brian stopped just behind him, laying his hand on the nape of Justin's neck, feeling the distress in the tension beneath his fingers.

 

"You didn't have to do that. I would have told him myself."

 

"And let you take the blame?" The harsh sigh sounded far too loud. "It was never your fault. Don't think I don't know that you still feel like it is."

 

Brian said nothing. He knew, in the logical way of reality, that Justin's injury wasn't due to him. But consciousness is frequently illogical, especially when it comes to the fragility of emotions.

 

"You know what I've come to realize since I regained all my memory of that night? That I lost something more than stable motor control of my hand. I lost the whole of myself. I lost the Justin that was. I'm broken, Brian. Most of the time, I can forget about it, but it always comes back. The reminder that I'm not whole."

 

"Neither am I, Justin." Oh, he had thought he was, the arrogant Brian who reigned supreme over Liberty Avenue, the accomplished ad exec who played sex god by night. He had what he wanted: a job that allowed him to have the lifestyle he wanted and a line of men waiting each night to be fucked by Brian Kinney. Even after Justin came along, it took years for him to realize that there were holes he alone couldn't fill, cracks he couldn't mend. He was still learning it all the time. Lowering his lips to Justin's ear, he whispered his next words.

 

"Neither of us are whole apart, but together we are complete. Do you understand?" He pressed his forehead to the softness of Justin's hair. "You made me whole when you stepped into my life, even though I didn't know it then. It took me five years to figure it out, and then I let it go, pushed you away. Only to break again."

 

Justin trembled, and Brian slid his other hand around Justin's waist to steady him. "I'm still broken, Justin. The fractures are still there, just as yours are inside you. But what we have together is stronger than what we have apart. You're not the same person, but you're the one who completes me. Your love makes me whole."

 

He sorely wished he was better at this, at talking about his feelings, at shaping words from clay to transform them to gold. He had never been good at expressing himself, but this time, he must have hit the mark. The ragged breath Justin took shivered through his spine and into Brian's chest, shaky but strong. He turned within Brian's arms, the blue in his eyes much darker than usual.

 

"I think . . . I think you should take me upstairs now."

 

###

 

Their coming together this time wasn't the gentleness of comfort as it had been earlier. It wasn't the roughness of releasing grief. It was something more . . . an intensity barely contained beneath fragile skin, a desperation born of need.

 

They barely made it into their bedroom before Brian had Justin pinned to the wall, hands frantically grasping, mouths open and devouring. The bathrobe slid to the floor, bare legs clenching Brian's waist as he stumbled back toward the bed. He hated the seconds spent ripping his own clothes off, seconds better spent clutching Justin while desperate fingers raked his back, hard enough for even Justin's short nails to paint gouges in his skin.

 

It had always been like this with Justin: heat, energy, transformation. He had never been just a fuck, not even the first time. Even as a teenager, Justin's passion and trust had overwhelmed him. No one had ever opened himself like that to Brian, carelessly tossing aside Brian's hard-assed insults to see the man beneath. He kept coming back, in spite of all the walls Brian threw up, willingly opening up his soul to a man he barely knew. It was insanely stupid. It was incredibly brave.

 

He had taken his time before, but he wasn't quite in control of himself now. Luckily, Justin was still relaxed and ready from the previous sex, and Brian took full advantage, slathering on a coat of lube and then sliding right where he needed to be. His arms held Justin wrists above his head, keeping him in place. He simply didn't have the patience to follow Justin's usual writhing all over the bed. Each thrust buried Justin further into the sheets, and he was pleased to see Justin pulling his legs back further and even wider apart, begging without words.

 

Brian curled over Justin, burrowing deep until he found the exact spot and angle. As Justin gasped and bucked beneath him, he thrust shallowly, massaging that one place over and over. He knew what it felt like, the almost painful intensity of too much pleasure at once, knew the way it would make Justin feel like he would explode within his skin.

 

He let the heat build, muffling Justin's keening by placing his palm over his lover's mouth. Sweat stung his eyes, and his hand tickled where Justin slid his tongue between his fingers. Fuck, this is . . . . It was everything.

 

When he exploded, unable to mute his own cry, all he could see was light, splitting into every color of the spectrum like sunlight through a prism.

 

###

 

 

 

 

He should have known the nightmares would reappear, but Justin had calmed considerably by the time he fell asleep for the night. He had hoped they would get lucky. Unfortunately, dreams had a way of following their own path, inconsiderate and often cruel.

 

The smack of a hand across his shoulder woke Brian. He sat up, struggling to surface from the void of sleep. He turned to find Justin fighting the sheets, face twisted in fear.

 

"Justin."

 

He knew better than to touch Justin. Not yet. As Justin groaned, shuddering, he tried again.

 

"Justin."

 

With a gasp, Justin's eyes flew open, darting back and forth as he took in his surroundings. Brian waited, watching as his partner's breathing slowed. Justin raised his hands, brushing the wetness from his cheeks.

 

"Fuck."

 

Brian reached over to the nightstand and withdrew a bottle from the drawer, offering it to Justin.

 

"Want your Xanax?"

 

Justin shook his head. "I'm tired of covering it up with drugs."

 

"Drugs are awesome little helpers. I'm a firm believer."

 

"I know you are." There it was . . . the grin Brian was hoping for.

 

"It's never going to end, is it?"

 

He hated how defeated Justin sounded.

 

"Maybe not, but it doesn't define you, Justin. Not unless you let it."

 

"I know." Justin reached up, caressing Brian's cheek. "I owe you so much . . . for helping me through all this."

 

"You did it mostly on your own." Brian laid back down, pulling Justin into his arms. "All I did was fuck you."

 

Justin laughed, and the cloud brought by the nightmare dissipated. He flicked his tongue over Brian's collarbone.

 

"Can you do it again?"

 

That impish, little smirk got him every time.

 

"Why don't we find out?"

 

###

 

Justin was still fast asleep when Brian came out of the shower in the morning, and he decided to leave him there. Yesterday had been rough, and Justin could use the sleep.

 

He was in the middle of pouring coffee when Gus appeared, dressed in a Rolling Stones t-shirt and denim shorts.

 

"I'll take you to the comic store today. Justin's still sleeping."

 

"He okay?" Gus looked away, biting his lip. "I, uh, heard someone yell last night."

 

"He had a nightmare. It happens from time to time."

 

"About the bashing?"

 

"Yes." Brian handed him a mug of coffee. "He still suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder. Usually, it's just in the form of occasional nightmares and panic attacks like yesterday. If it ever happens when you're alone with him, just call me on my cell, and I'll talk him through it."

 

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up last night. I probably made it worse."

 

"No. You didn't, Gus. It's time you were told, and Justin agreed. He wouldn't have said anything to you if he didn't want to."

 

Gus got a bowl and poured some cereal, joining his father at the table.

 

"Hey, Dad?"

 

Brian raised an eyebrow in question.

 

"Would it be okay if I had a friend over on Saturday?"

 

"Sure." Brian narrowed his eyes over the coffee mug. "Cock or pussy?"

 

"Dad!"

 

"Well?" His dad was smirking.

 

"She's a girl, not a pussy. Don't embarrass me, okay?"

 

"I shall be the epitome of manners."

 

Considering the way Brian's eyes were twinkling, Gus seriously doubted that.

 

"Can we use the pool?"

 

"Of course. Just no fucking in it, okay? Justin and I refrain on your behalf, so we expect the same from you."

 

"Dad!"

 

"Pussy." Brian shuddered at the very idea.

 

"Dad." Time to get out the special Gus glare he used when his dad started in on his "straight people" diatribes. He especially hated when his father called the moms munchers.

 

Brian held up both hands in surrender. "I'll be good, I swear."

 

Gus rolled his eyes and went to get his backpack from his room.

 

Some days, not many but some, he wished he had normal parents.

 

###

 

When Gus got home from work at the comic store, Justin was up and fixing baked fish for dinner.

 

"Hey, Gus."

 

"Hey."

 

He couldn't help but examine Justin's face closely, but the man offered him a smile and seemed to be feeling better. Walking over to the fridge, Gus poured himself a glass of iced tea and took a seat at the bar.

 

"Look . . . I really am sorry about last night. I shouldn't have pried."

 

Justin hesitated and then dried his hands off to sit next to Gus.

 

"It's fine, Gus. It would come up at some point. So you may as well know."

 

"Do you still have nightmares?"

 

Justin barked out a harsh laugh. "Heard me last night, did you? Sorry if I woke you up."

 

"No!" Gus wished he could swallow his own tongue. "You don't need to apologize. I was just . . . I was worried."

 

He didn't see the sudden softness cross Justin's face. "Thanks, Gus."

 

"Justin?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"I hope you won't get mad, but I took a look around your studio yesterday." Gus rolled his lips inward in an unconscious imitation of his father. It was terribly endearing.

 

"It's okay, but was there something you were looking for? Something you want to see?"

 

"I was just curious. Everyone says you're becoming so famous and all."

 

Justin chuckled. "Oh, really? Who says?"

 

"Mom does, and Debbie says it too. Mom has some of your works hanging in our house. And of course, you saw Dad's loft before he sold it. All those pictures of yours?"

 

"Yeah," Justin said quietly. "I saw them. He must have been collecting them for years."

 

"I asked him once about them. He didn't want to talk about it. Just said it was 'his foolish attempt to hang on to the past'."

 

Justin looked away. "It wasn't foolish."

 

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but Gus couldn't quite manage to push them out. He really didn't know Justin well enough yet. Instead, he switched the subject.

 

"Um, in the closet of your studio? There's these paintings in the back covered by a sheet." He traced a design in the wetness of the cool glass, afraid to look up.

 

"You shouldn't have been in there, Gus." The words were a gentle reprimand, and Gus could tell Justin wasn't angry. "I keep those there because, well, they remind me of darker times. I can't stand to look at them every day."

 

"They're of your prom, right? I mean, I didn't know what they were when I saw them, but after you told me what happened . . . ."

 

Justin sighed. Standing up, he gestured to Gus.

 

"Let's go take a look, shall we?"

 

_Fuck_. He _knew_ he shouldn't have said anything.

 

Justin led him into the studio, heading directly to the closet and retrieving the three canvasses Gus remembered. Removing the sheet, he lined them up along the wall, pausing to stare at them for a while. Gus watched him in concern, but Justin seemed calm.

 

"You're right, of course. They're about the attack." He pointed to the first. "Brian came to prom wearing a white scarf. It became soaked with my blood after." He hesitated, as if wanting to say more, but then shook his head, moving on to the next picture. "This one is reminiscent of my dreams, where I'm always running. There's always someone coming after me." He reached for the third picture, placing it in front of the others. "This one, I wish I had done differently."

 

Gus gazed at the scene of two men dancing, marred by tears of blood. "It's of the prom, right? You and Dad dancing?"

 

"Yes, but I regret including the blood." Justin knelt down, brushing the canvas with fingertips that could not erase the sadness from the painting. "That moment, when we danced was one of the happiest times of my life. I shouldn't have let my bitterness over the attack overshadow it."

 

"Maybe you should have another." The image bloomed bright in Gus's mind. "You guys are married now, right? But you didn't have a wedding. We could hold a reception with a dance!"

 

Justin held his hands up, laughing. "Whoa. I think that would scare off your father so much, I wouldn't see him again in a year. He'd hightail it to Nepal or somewhere just as remote. Besides, we did have a dance, after I came back to Pittsburgh. Our own special moment."

 

"You're probably right," Gus said. "I can see Dad saying receptions are for breeders."

 

"Well, you definitely know him well," Justin said, grinning.

 

He put the pictures away, covering them once more.

 

"Promise me you won't tell your dad about those, okay Gus? It would upset him, and he's been through enough."

 

"I know. You should have seen him all those years you were gone."

 

"That bad, huh?"

 

"Well, everyone else seemed to think so. I didn't see the difference because I didn't remember much of when we lived in Pittsburgh. But now that you're here . . . he's so much more alive and happy."

 

Justin looked away. "I'm sorry I wasn't here. I didn't know." His chest tightened, pain flooding him in a wave.

 

"But you left." Resentment colored Gus's words dark. Maybe he was overstepping his bounds, but he _had_ to know. All these years of wondering had bottled up inside him, flaring to fury when he arrived in Pittsburgh.

 

"He wanted me to. And I did also, at the time. I had every intention of maintaining our relationship, though. Until he cut me off." Justin frowned. "Hasn't he explained all this to you?"

 

"No. It's why I was so mad at you at first," Gus admitted sheepishly. "I thought you left Dad and it pissed me off."

 

"Oh, Gus." Justin didn't know whether to scream or laugh. "I did leave, but your Dad was the one to end it. It broke my heart. I suspect it broke his too."

 

"But why did he do that?"

 

Justin knew why, knew Brian's habit of crucifying himself in his desire to do what he thought he best. How he hated that Brian tried to sacrifice so much!

 

"I think you should talk to Brian about that, Gus. It would be better if it came from him."

 

Gus nodded. "I'm sorry, Justin. For how I was treating you."

 

Justin drew him into a rough embrace. "It’s okay. You were feeling protective of your dad. I can appreciate that. Can we start over?"

 

"Definitely."

 

"Good. Come help me make the asparagus."

 

"I hate asparagus," groaned Gus. "I hate cooking too."

 

Justin chuckled. "Like father, like son. Come on. I'll show you how."

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
